#putting him into a kitchen blender and blending him into soup

[astrolavas]

updated my hunter refs 💥💥

[thebearer]

the milestone menu: roasted red pepper and tomato soup for sad days

prompt: the death of mikey's anniversary is near. you make a comfort meal for carmen.

contains: mentions of death. angty with a side of fluff (at the end). anxious!carmen (i mean ofc).

INGREDIENTS

3 red bell peppers. 4 large tomatoes, peeled, seeded, chopped. An onion, chopped. 2 garlic cloves, minced

1 1/2 tsp thyme. 2 tsp paprika. A pinch of sugar. Salt & pepper. Cayenne

1/2 cup Chicken broth. 2 tbsp butter. 1 1/2 tbsp flour.

DIRECTIONS

Cover peppers in oil, broil until black, turn to get all sides. Put them in a paper bag to rest, the skin & seeds should come off easily. Chop. Heat oil on med heat in a large pot, cook garlic & onions until soft. Add tomatoes, peppers, thyme, paprika, and sugar. Cook on med-low, until most of the liquid has evaporated, about 20 minutes. Stir in 6 cups of chicken stock, salt & pepper. Bring to boil & simmer for 20 mins, until the vegetables are tender. Strain soup. Use a food processor or blender, and blend solids to your desired consistency. In your large pot, melt butter & add flour. Add soup/purée and stir, simmer for a few minutes.

“Hey, baby,” Carmen’s voice came to you before he did. A heavy sigh, tired and heavy from the day, from the looming anniversary approaching. 

Mikey’s death date was creeping closer and closer, the days darker and colder as did Carmen’s demeanor. Longer days at work, distant even when he was home with you. You worried about him, though everyone told you not to. 

“He just… he gets like this when it gets closer to the date, you know?” Richie muttered when you’d confided in him at family dinner. “We all get kinda fucked up, but Carm… That’s just how he is, y’know? Just give’im some time.” 

Anchovy purred, rubbing against Carmen’s leg. It was almost like he knew. Carmen would swear he did, that he could sense his owner’s upset, that he was trying to make it better. He’s like you, Carmen would say, giving you a half grin that always had you swooning. 

Carmen frowned when he didn’t see you lingering about. Not in the doorway smiling at them, leaning in for a kiss, wrapping him in a hug. “Babe?” Carmen called again, looking down the hall. The lights were on in the kitchen, a small clinking of bowls and silverware. 

Carmen found you in front of the stove, trying to keep quiet, stirring a pan on the burner gently. “Hey,” He frowned when you jumped, turning around with a wide eyed gaze, like you’d been caught. 

“Carm,” You chirped, body shimmying in front of the stove, too close to the flame in a too loose shirt. Carmen fought the urge to tell you to move or tuck your shirt in. 

“You’re-You weren’t supposed to be home early.” You turned to the clock blinking on the microwave. “I-I thought you weren’t going to be home for another hour.” 

“Richie told me to leave.” Carmen frowned, trying to peer around you. 

“Why?” You blocked his view with your body, a side step in front of him. 

“‘Cause he’s a fuckin’ jaggoff lately. What’re you doin’?” Carmen huffed lightly, grabbing your waist gently, holding you in place so he could see around you. A large pot on the stove, bubbling to life, steam clouding the clear lid that covered it. 

“I’m cooking.” You huffed, shoulders deflating lightly. “I-I was going to surprise you. I had this whole thing planned, and I got candles and I was going to change out of this.” You threw your hands down on your sweatshirt- Carmen’s sweatshirt. One from Copenhagen he’d picked up when it was especially cold. You’d stolen in, not that he minded, he liked you better in it anyways. 

“Was going to at least try to look a little nice.” You mutter, wiping off a small stain, a glob of tomato that had flung when the processor lid wouldn’t come off earlier. 

“You look beautiful, c’mon.” Carmen shook his head at you. “What’re you- Why’re you doin’ all this?” His heart skipped for a moment, looking at the calendar pinned on the fridge. “Did I- We didn’t have plans?” Fuck, he’d been so busy he’d forgotten. Head everywhere but where it needed to be. First he was fuckin’ up dishes left and right at work, and now he couldn’t even remember a fuckin’ date. 

“No,” You shook your head, stilling Carmen’s racing mind. “I just… I wanted to do something nice.” You looked up at him, hands grabbing him sweetly, holding them in your own. “For you.”

“For me?” Carmen whispered, swallowing around the tightness in his throat, in his chest. “What’re you talkin’ about for me? What-Why would you wanna-” 

“Because,” You shrugged lightly, hands swinging between the two of you gently. “I just wanted to do something nice for you.” 

Carmen saw the hesitation on your face, knew what was coming before you said it. He tensed in your hold. “I just… With everything-” 

“-Don’t.” Carmen shook his head, the burn in his throat strangling his voice. “You don’t have to, baby.” 

“I do.” Your eyes met his, rounding in his gaze. “I want to. I-I don’t really think it will help, but… I don’t know. Whenever I was sad my mom would make this for me.” You nod back towards the pot on the stove. “It always made me feel better.” 

Carmen thought he might cry. He willed himself, squeezing your hands, pulling you into his chest to hold you. He just needed to hold you, to feel you, pressing his nose to your scalp, inhaling your scent. 

All the emotions he’d repressed, swallowed down and tried to power through. Anytime he’d turn the corner, see Mikey’s smiling face on the fall and he’d feel like breaking down. Screaming, crying, punching the walls, pulling his hair out, ears ringing and heart hammering; instead, he’d go to the walk-in to breathe through collapsing lungs.

You felt Carmen’s shaky breath, rattle out of his chest and shake into yours. Your hand rubbed gently against his back, up his spine in a soothing way you hoped would calm him. 

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, cheeks pressed against his chest. His heart raced in your ear, a pounding thud that made your own heart squeeze. “I’m so sorry, Carm.” 

“It’s alright.” Carmen gritted, jaw clenching, willing his tears back. “It’s-it’s just a lot. I don’t even fuckin’ know why. Why-Why I even get like this when-when it’s been so long.” 

“Don’t do that.” You shook your head, frowning at him lightly. 

“No, no it’s true. I- fuck, I shouldn’t be-” 

“-Carmen,” You held his gaze firmly. His red rimmed blue eyes met yours, a little wary, vulnerable. You softened, fingers brushing through his hair. “It’s ok.” 

The finality in your voice, soft but certain, it made Carmen’s jaw shake, emotions bubbling over. He held you, rocking side by side in the kitchen, cries muffled into your shoulder. You held him back, just as tight, cooing shushes over the hums of the appliances, his tears wet on his sweatshirt- your sweatshirt. 

“Don’t expect a lot.” You gave a small, teasing smile over your shoulder. 

Carmen had settled into his usual seat at the small kitchen table. He’d sheepishly wiped his tears, letting you dote on him sweetly. Kiss his tears away, soft lips pressing to his wet cheeks, his nose, pulling him in so his lips were on yours, arms still tangled around the other. 

“It’s not, like, gourmet or anything.” You shook your head, ladling out the hot liquid into a bowl. “It is my Nana’s recipe though.” 

“Better than gourmet then?” Carmen’s voice was raspy with dried tears, though he smiled lightly. Bright enough to warm your heart, leave you smiling, plating the grilled cheese. 

“She’d love that you said that.” You grin, setting the steaming bowl and sandwich in front of him. You leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, a hand running down the back of his neck lovingly. 

He burned at the simplicity, the sweetness of it all. So loving and affectionate freely, without any strings attached. Mikey would’ve loved you, Carmen was so sure of it. 

“This is good.” Carmen nodded, swallowing his spoonful. 

“Yeah?” You grinned proudly, positively beaming. 

Of course it was good, the best fuckin’ thing he’s ever had. It came from you, so it only made sense it was. Carmen didn’t say that. Instead, he smiled, reaching over for your hand, squeezing it across the table. “Yeah. Amazing. Just what I needed.” He swallowed another wave of tears, happier this time. “Thank you for, uh, for doin’ this.” 

“I’m glad you like it.” You propped your head in your free hand, a lopsided, lovey smile that warmed Carmen from the inside out. He knew his cheeks were blushing, tingling pink under your affectionate gaze. 

“It’s really good.” Carmen took another spoonful, the warmth spilling down his throat, soothing his chest. “Sorry I came home early and didn’t call. I just… I’ve been out of my mind, y’know? I’m sorry about that too, it’s-it’s not fair to you, and-” 

“-Carm,” You squeezed his hand lightly, fingers intertwining with his. “I’m glad you like it.” You smile sweetly. 

Carmen nodded, leg still shaking under the table. He didn’t let go of your hand, held it in an iron grip like a lifeline and you let him, thumb sweeping over his inked knuckles calmly. 

If Mikey could see him now, he’d be howling in laughter, cackling at Carmen at how “whipped” he was. Mercilessly tease him for being “soft” in a way that only a big brother could. But he knew Mikey would be so proud, so fuckin’ happy that Carmen found you- that Carmen had someone like you.

[whatkarajoleighsaid]

Not a Recipe for Creamy Roasted Butternut Squash Soup

Is it just me, or is there something about a cool breeze and red and yellow and orange leaves that makes me crave a warm bowl of soup? And what screams autumn! more than squash? Today, I’m sharing with you a recipe that my mother gave to me, written on a waterlogged index card that her own mother gave to her and, presumably, so forth. My mother is such a sweet woman. She was always very patient, and never yelled at me for drawing on the walls or spilling food. That’s why I know she would understand that I had to do what I did, for her, no matter what the consequences will be. Making this soup is simply so nostalgic, and I hope it does the same for you all! 

I can remember sitting on the porch with my mother on a sunny autumn day, the leaves just starting to change, enjoying a warm bowl of soup with squash from the garden, alongside a swiss grilled cheese and a hot cup of tea. My father would come out and yell at her for making something that he didn’t like. “Can’t you cook a goddamn steak every once in a while for your husband?” he would yell, and strike her face. But my mother stayed strong. She stayed strong when he went missing, too. Can I get a hell yeah! for all my strong, independent women out there? 

The hallmark of this recipe is the roasted garlic, onions, and squash, that really bring out the complex flavors in the ingredients that you just don’t get from the stovetop; plus, you get the bonus of a kitchen that smells like a Yankee candle. Smells much better than a body burning in the woods on a cool autumn night--or is that just me? 

Here are the ingredients you’ll need! 

Butternut squash: The star of the dish! Pick one that’s about the size of a middle aged man’s decapitated head. 

Olive oil: Just enough to cover the inside of the halved butternut squash. 

Butter: One of my many deep, dark secrets that I’ll let you in on in this recipe. Butter yields a creamier and lighter soup than heavy cream does. (You can substitute olive oil or coconut milk for vegan/dairy-free soup!) 

Shallot:  I prefer shallots to onions for this soup because I want to let the roasted squash flavor shine through. You can substitute yellow onion if you prefer a stronger flavor. 

Garlic: I used four cloves of garlic, but I won’t tell anyone if you put more. We all have our secrets. 

Vegetable broth: Fun fact! You can save some of your veggie scraps and skins in the freezer and boil them to make your own no-waste vegetable broth. As always, store bought paste is fine, and my omnivore readers can substitute any broth they have on hand. 

Maple syrup: Adds a little bit of sweetness. Sweet like the feeling of watching your father realize he will die at the hands of his own daughter. Offers  complexity to an otherwise savory soup. Yum! 

Spices: Add nutmeg and thyme to really channel the autumn flavors! 

My favorite thing about this soup is that it’s surprisingly easy to throw together, much like how surprisingly easy it is to overpower a man who’s much larger than you, as long as you catch him off guard and scare him with a pistol. People are funny--they’ll do anything you ask them to, if you have a gun. Take it from me.

All you have to do is roughly chop the squash and onions, peel your garlic, and put it on a baking sheet lined with foil or parchment paper, because we all like an easy cleanup, if you know what I mean. Toss with a generous amount of olive oil and salt and pepper to taste, and bake on 425 until beautifully browned. Transfer the ingredients to a blender with the vegetable broth, softened butter, and spices, and blend until creamy. Transfer to a bowl and garnish! Easy as throwing a lit match onto a pile of body parts and dry leaves, and makes for a comforting soup that’s simply to die for. 

Garnish is optional, but I like to put fresh ground pepper and pepitas for crunch. Enjoy your soup on the porch with your mother, safe with the knowledge that next autumn will be better without him. 

[folerdetdufoler]

What are Magic 8ball Evak doing today? I miss them.

xo

hey, sorry, you sent this a few weeks ago i think and i really got hung up on it.

usually this kind of thing would be fun to think about but because of the way time works i didn’t know how to write around it! like, when you sent it it was late august, and technically that had like, just happened in the story. we’d just had a late august, so i couldn’t figure out if i should write another “late august day” almost a year after the story finished, even though i only finished the story back in april. that felt like too much of a time jump though, and i hadn’t given isak and even enough time to grow after the story ended. someone else had asked for an update in the comments on ao3 and i couldn’t give them one, not the same way i have been doing for mondays. but i do want to do something, so…

even’s birthday fell on a sunday. it was the first one isak would be celebrating with him, so isak wanted it to be special. but so did sigrid, and she worked faster than him. she invited them to their house for dinner months in advance, which annoyed even. the saturday before, when they were all hanging out at elias’s apartment, even spent most of the time grumbling about it.

“i thought things were getting better with you guys?” elias asked from his throne.

even sighed. “yeah, i mean, we’re fine. this guy is her new bff.” even patted the head of curls sitting against the couch between his legs. “but i just know it’s going to be this over-the-top thing that i don’t want to have to deal with on my birthday of all days. i don’t want that attention.”

isak paused the race he was playing against mikael and whipped around. “you love the attention.”

“yours, not hers.” even gave that same head a correcting tap and isak returned to the game. “if she actually wanted to celebrate my birthday with me then she would ask me what i would like to do, and then maybe it would be something i would enjoy.”

isak scoffed but didn’t pause the game this time. “if she did that you would just tell her to leave you alone.”

“happy birthday to me!”

“then you should just tell her no, you don’t want to spend your birthday with her.” elias doled out the reasonable and obvious advice.

“i would have, but she invited both of us and isak accepted immediately. besides, it’s kind of a regular thing now, sunday dinners.”

“that’s cute,” mutta noted as he walked in from the kitchen with a bag of pretzels and jar of peanut butter. mikael pointed to the coffee table, a silent command to place the snack within his reach.

isak felt a little guilty then, but he kept it to himself. they kept playing their game until it was mutta’s turn, and then isak pushed himself to his feet. he gestured to even to follow him to the kitchen.

even had a big smile on his face as they stepped away, because he was probably thinking isak wanted to kiss him in the privacy of another room. isak did pull him in close by the waist, but it wasn’t for kisses. “we can skip tomorrow,” he offered instead.

even froze for a second, but then shook his head. “no, no, we can go. i would only make it worse by skipping.”

“i would be happy to tell her we’re skipping but take her out to dinner on her own another night, smooth things over.”

even chuckled. “i absolutely love that you feel comfortable having one-on-one dates with my mother but it’s really not necessary. I’m just…complaining. and i’ll complain a little bit more in therapy, and then i’ll work through why i’m complaining and then i’ll be in a better mood for tomorrow. okay?” he reached up and rubbed isak’s shoulders in reassurance.

“will you tell me about it when you get home?” sometimes even shared what they’d talked about and sometimes he didn’t. isak was getting better about asking permission to cross the ever-changing border.

even’s eyes shifted to the side. “it depends on what we dig up.”

isak accepted this. “okay.” he leaned in to kiss even’s cheek, physically changing the subject. “my next question is…how angry do you think elias will be if i steal the big pillows?”

―――

isak had moved into even’s apartment right before christmas, hauling bags and suitcases back and forth over a few days until most of his belongings were at even’s. he fit a desk and his nice chair in the bedroom, and somehow all of his clothes fit in even’s closet. the giant pillows he’d bought had stayed at elias’s apartment, mostly because they would get more use there; the boys still gathered on saturdays and needed the extra seating. but after even left for therapy this was isak’s chance to make the steal without ruining his surprise.

mikael helped him carry them to even’s apartment, since he was ready to leave around the same time as isak. they didn’t talk much on the walk over, but isak knew that that was mikael’s preferred level of communication, and they were both comfortable with it. isak would much prefer a mikael at peace than a mikael ready to launch an attack.

they deposited the pillows in the living room and mikael turned to leave. “we should be here at six?” he asked over his shoulder.

“yeah. i don’t know how late we’ll be but if we leave early then that would be a good time.”

“okay. and elias still has his key?”

“yup.” isak followed mikael down the stairs to their shoes.

“aight. we’ll see you tomorrow then.” mikael offered his hand for a casual slap-shake goodbye, the most physical intimacy isak had ever experienced with him.

“thanks for the help!”

mikael disappeared. isak went back upstairs to find his phone and finalize plans with kari anne in the group chat.

―――

isak dressed nicely for dinners at sigrid & jan’s house. this time he had a red fair isle sweater and dark wash jeans, and some chunky socks keeping his feet warm in his leather boots. even wore something very similar, but his sweater was cream with a different pattern. “do you think she’ll want to take pictures of us again?” even wondered while he combed back his hair, then gently mussed it into a style.

“of course. it’s your birthday. and we look handsome.” isak was applying a dot of concealer just because he could, though he would have to ask emma for more if he wanted to keep up this routine. even put his comb bak in the drawer then leaned in to kiss isak on his opposite cheek. he added a smack to his ass on the way out.

isak liked to dress up a bit because it felt like sigrid and jan dressed up too. it was the polite thing to do, but also isak knew that conversation would flow better if they were all on the same page, even with their appearance. they were all putting the same level of effort into the gathering, and then no one would feel out of place. and it wasn’t too much extra effort, because they would just save the same outfits for work the next day…as long as they didn’t get any stains on them.

they gathered their outerwear as they walked down the stairs, pulling hats and scarves and heavy coats from the hooks along the walls. isak checked in with even right before they left. “are you sure?”

even nodded and smiled and isak didn’t doubt the honesty of his response. he’d shared that his session yesterday had gone well, and they’d talked about certain behaviors from sigrid and himself that he wanted to avoid. “like i’ve been remembering things she’s said and reacting to those instead of what she’s actually doing now. when i feel ready to discuss those past…transgressions, then i need to have a conversation specifically about those moments, versus whatever might be triggering those memories now, whether they’re related or not. otherwise it’s kind of like these mixed messages. she won’t understand what’s actually upsetting me.”

on the way over isak suggested a dinner with just his parents, where isak stayed home. “would it be easier, or give you more of an opportunity to discuss those things without me there?”

“maybe another time. sundays are nice with you.” he gave isak’s hand a squeeze.

they held hands in public now, while they were commuting to work or grocery shopping or walking over to elias’s or meeting emma for dinner. if isak happened to catch a stranger’s curious look, he might tense up a bit, but he didn’t let go anymore.

sigrid & jan’s house was a tiny thing that they’d moved into after even went to university. its yard was bigger than the actual house, but it was completely filled with jan’s garden. another nice thing about going to visit was that they always came home with plenty of seasonal crops. and in the winter it was usually canned fruits, jams, or pickled veggies. sigrid greeted them with big hugs and jan immediately presented two very small jars of “blackberry jam! i got just enough off of that bush at the back.”

“i thought it had died!” even exclaimed, the genuine shock and delight at the gift lifting his voice.

“it’s definitely on its last legs…uh, roots.”

“he was out there every day scouring the brambles.” sigrid shook her head but she was clearly proud of his efforts. then she took isak’s hand and pulled him to the kitchen. even and jan went to the tall closet at the back of the living room where jan stored his jars. “you both look so cozy today. remind me to take a picture later.” she brought him to the stove where she had two large pots simmering. she pointed to one. “i need you to blend that while i get this bread finished.”

“what is it?”

“that’s butternut squash, and this…is a ministrone. kind of. i’ve taken some liberties.”

isak picked up the immersion blender that was sitting next to the stove. sigrid had gotten it started but it was still chunky in spots. while he stood there and mixed the soup she sliced a loaf of bread and laid it out on a baking tray. each slice got a thick spread of butter. isak stepped to the side so she could open the oven and slide the tray in for a quick broil.

she flicked her eyes toward the living room and then leaned toward isak’s chest. “how has he been?”

sigrid asked this question every time they were together. isak had thought it was just general curiosity about the new relationship, but once isak revealed that to even he had rolled his eyes. she was asking isak because it was the nervous curiosity that even had tried to distance himself from years ago. eventually he told his mother to stop using isak to get answers about her own son. that turned into an argument where sigrid nearly started crying about how even wouldn't answer her so she had no choice. she excused herself from the table and jan was left to host the boys through the rest of a very quiet dinner.

at this point isak was comfortable pushing back to defend even’s boundary. “sigrid, you know i’m not going to speak for him. how’s this, is it smooth enough?”

she glanced into the pot. “yes, that looks good.” isak’s deflection seemed to work. “now grab some bowls from the shelf for me please. thank goodness he found a tall one to bring home,” she muttered to herself. isak blushed but easily picked four bowls from up high.

even and jan came to the kitchen shortly after, with jan still talking as they headed to the table. isak passed them the silverware and glasses to set out at each seat. then he helped sigrid carry the pots to the table. before she sat down she dropped a kiss on the crown of even’s head. “how are you doing?” she asked as casually as she could as she moved to her chair. isak sat on the other side of the table, so the couples could look at each other directly. isak studied even as he answered.

“i’m fine, mamma. a little nervous about pappa’s grand scheme over here, but everything else is okay.” isak couldn’t hear any tension in his voice so he relaxed a little bit.

“oh, is he trying to get you on his side about buying a van?”

“how else will i transport my vegetables, sigrid?” jan sounded exasperated by her skepticism.

“dearest, you don’t even have the stall permit yet. don’t put the cart—excuse me, the van—before the horse.”

“catch me up?” isak requested of the table in general. jan gleefully started from the beginning with his grand plan to join the farmer’s market that summer, with the full list of his crops and ideas for clever names for his backyard farm.

most of dinner was spent discussing this great undertaking, with even contributing creative enthusiasm and sigrid sprinkling it all with caution and logic. then they pivoted to jan’s work at the office, and how he found his attention shifting so easily in the warmer months. jan and sigrid lived comfortably and were starting to entertain plans for retirement. that led to talking about the cabin, which turned into the perfect segue by the time they were clearing the table for dessert.

Isak fetched smaller plates from an even higher shelf, and even clapped when sigrid revealed his cake. it was a tall layer cake draped in swirls of light blue icing. there were six candles on top and even’s name written in a shaky, dark blue script. “do you remember that picture you put in the folder for me? the close-up of his face?” sigrid asked isak. he nodded. every few weeks he picked a photo (with even’s approval) from his phone and uploaded it as a wordless update for his parents. that one had been from early december, when they went out for lunch on a random tuesday, just to get some sunlight. “i zoomed in on his eyes and picked the blue color from there.” sigrid twisted to even and cupped his cheeks with her small hands. even leaned into the adoring gesture and those blue eyes crinkled up with a smile. they shared a silent moment of connection and then she released him to stand in front of her chair. isak stood up too. jan struck a match to light the candles.

even laughed and gamely clapped while they sang the birthday song. he watched isak spin around with a little flare, and isak genuinely enjoyed performing something he used to roll his eyes at. then even paused to make a wish and blew out the candles. isak knew he would ask him what he wished for later.

the cake was delicious, and they each had two slices. even tried to flick icing across the table at isak but sigrid threatened him with a spoon. “if you get icing on my wall you are cleaning it up, birthday boy.” even agreed to those terms and kept trying. then jan left the table for the bedroom, and returned by sliding a tall, skinny cardboard box through the kitchen. it had a blue bow stuck on top, which was enough, since it would’ve taken an obscene amount of wrapping paper to cover the whole thing.

“eh?” even stood to look at the box.

“happy birthday, dearest.” sigrid looked very proud of the gift and was enjoying even’s puzzlement. jan stepped back and let even walk around it. they had to hold it at the top so it wouldn’t fall over.

“it’s heavy….” even’s eyes scanned each side. “is…did you get me a bed?” he gripped the box to turn it around, showing sigrid and isak the diagram on the other side. it was, in fact, a bed. “thank you,” even whispered, without much conviction.

“it looks like a nice bed,” isak added, coming around the table to look at the dimensions. “we can get the guys to help us carry it upstairs.”

“oh no! no!” sigrid nearly yelled. “it’s not for—it’s for the cabin. you don’t have to carry it anywhere. pappa and i will take it up on our next trip and build it in your room, so now you’ll have a proper bed for when you and isak visit. i didn’t want those flimsy beds from when you were a kid stopping you from staying in ålesund.”

even’s face relaxed as his mother explained and the bed made more sense. he leaned the box against the nearest counter edge and moved around it to give sigrid a hug. “thank you,” he said again, with actual gratitude. “that’s such a lovely gesture for the both of us.” he pressed a heavy kiss on sigrid’s cheek and isak saw her squeeze her eyes closed. she was going to cry. she let out a tiny gasp when even pulled back. he went to jan to give him a hug as well, and sigrid turned away from them to hide her tears. but isak stepped in and opened his arms for a hug as well, and she fell into his chest and let loose against his sweater.

“thank you, sigrid. that means so much to us.” he rubbed her back to calm her down. “let us know when you’d like a family vacation and we’ll try to clear our schedules for it, okay?” her blonde hair scratched at his chin as she nodded. isak knew it was a big promise, committing to a vacation with his boyfriend’s parents, but that seemed to be the least they could do since they bought them a bed. aside from the literal comfort they were providing, it felt like a grander statement since the gift would serve both of them. isak felt like it was his birthday too.

when even and his father separated, jan peeled off the bow and stuck it to even’s chest. they shared a low chuckle, and then jan slid the box back to the bedroom where it had been hiding. “you know, if we have a van, it will be a lot easier to transport this up there!” he sang as he left. isak let go of sigrid and spun into even’s arms. she plucked a napkin off the table to wipe at her tears while isak was crushed into a hug with the bow.

“we’ll keep the little mattresses, of course. you never know when elias and mutta and mikael want to come for a visit too. but yes, this will be a nicer frame for you both.”

“it’s such a thoughtful gift, mamma. thank you so much.”

“you know…i thought of it as soon as you came back from your first trip, when you brought back the clean sheets and blanket. it might’ve been presumptuous but if…if isak was having a nice time then i thought he might want to come back, and then i wanted it to be ready, and you two could have your own space.”

isak laughed as he pulled out of even’s hug. he kept to his side though, and wrapped an arm around even’s waist. “you were very right to presume. though i suspect i would’ve had a wonderful time even if i had to sleep on the floor.”

sigrid looked horrified when he suggested such a crime, but that just made even laugh. jan reappeared. “oh i forgot to bring these out.” he was carrying a colorful quilt and coordinating linens, also with a blue bow on top. even let go of isak to accept them, and both boys admired the pattern.

“pappa helped me pick those out. they were on sale after christmas. oh, and if you bring them back to the city to wash, you could just use them on your regular bed too. everything fits.” sigrid returned to her pleased homemaker attitude, with any remaining tears in her eyes only there out of pride. she’d surprised her son with a useful and enjoyable gift, that doubled as a reason for him to visit her at the cabin. it was a very successful birthday dinner.

―――

they enjoyed a little bit of champagne in the living room before they left, relaxing on the couches and catching up on the skiing gossip from sigrid and jan’s most recent trip. isak disclosed that he hasn’t skied since he was very young, which sent even giggling, picturing his boyfriend flying down the slopes. “this might be even better than my skateboarding fantasy.” luckily neither sigrid nor jan inquired further into what that fantasy actually was.

when isak noticed the time was getting close to seven he made the gentle suggestion to head home. sigrid and jan were happy to let them go, having enjoyed the whole bottle together and noting their earlier bedtime now that they were getting older. but she also demanded photos once they were standing, so isak took a few pictures of even with his parents and then jan took a few of isak and even alone. they had to brainstorm a way to take a picture of all four of them together, but then sigrid cleared a small space on the fireplace mantle to rest a phone. Even set the timer, they lined up with the boys in the middle, and they wrapped their arms around each other. they smiled.

after another round of hugs and kisses they bundled up and went home. isak carried the new linens in an oversized shopping tote over his shoulder. “that went well, yes?” isak looked over to see even nodding into his scarf. he pressed the button for their stop.

“it was really lovely. i had to, like, constantly remind my brain to not interpret what she was saying negatively, but that’s…what i’m supposed to be doing.” they stepped off the bus carefully, navigating the packed snow on the sidewalk. “maybe after a few more visits it will be less of a conscious effort. but even as it was, i enjoyed myself. i liked seeing you with my parents.”

“speaking of me with your parents, i kind of promised sigrid we would go on a family vacation with her to ålesund.”

isak could barely hear the chuckle underneath the scarf but it was there. “i think that was a given. that was the whole point of the bed. it was quite clever on mamma’s part.”

“mm,” isak agreed. “so we’ll have to start looking at our schedules. and now we have the weekend farmer’s market to take into account.”

even’s laugh was louder and drew his mouth up above the warm wool. “he really has leaned into his gardening in the last year, jesus. if you had asked me five years ago what hobby i thought my dad would pick up next, i never would’ve thought ‘fruits and vegetables.’”

“forget hobbies; he’s halfway to his own business.”

they approached their building. isak had his own key now, and he unlocked the first door for them.

“what are you thinking about?”

isak was thinking about the surprise that was waiting for them upstairs, feeling nervous that he didn’t have any texts with updates, even though he didn’t ask for any. but he quickly thought up a work excuse that would explain his distance. “um, how maybe someone from jakob’s team might be interested in profiling jan. has there been a surge of home gardens lately? what’s the process for joining a farmer’s market? how profitable is it to bring produce into the city from a farm versus urban, hyperlocal crops? what resources are there for farmers when it comes to direct-to-consumer sales?” he felt ridiculous spitting out these ideas because they were rushing out without a filter yet they sounded somewhat legitimate. he really should be putting these questions in a voice memo, but even was climbing the stairs in front of him and that was…well that took priority.

the bag of linens landed with a light thump on top of isak’s pile of shoes. they removed their outerwear slowly as they climbed, hanging everything back up. isak listened for noises but didn’t hear anything over the shuffle of their own clothes. there wasn’t any light coming through under the door. and even—even was still undressing. isak reached up and tugged at his belt. “what are you doing?” he hissed. even threw his sweater and undershirt over his shoulder, and they skimmed isak’s head as they fluttered down the steps.

“getting naked. wanna help?” even was still climbing and his hands were at his belt buckle.

“even, no!” isak was torn between holding his boyfriend back and trying to reach for his shirt, while also not pulling them both down the stairs.

“what…what’s going on? you love when i get naked.”

isak blushed, praying whoever was on the other side of the door was far enough away to not hear them. maybe they were hanging out in the living room. even undid his belt but he did stop climbing to look at isak.

“do you want me to blow you down there?” he pointed down to the graffiti door and isak was going to melt from the flames burning his neck.

“shut up, no, just….” he stumbled down the steps to fetch the sweater and chucked it back up at even. “put this back on. we can’t be naked.”

“why not?” even was seriously confused but he did as isak asked. “we always get naked.”

isak pinched the bridge of his nose. “not tonight, okay babe?”

even dropped his sweater and his jaw. “is this…is this the first time you’re saying ‘no’ to a fuck?”

“even! i’m not—that’s not what this is. just please put your clothes back on until…until later or something.”

even reached into the pocket of his sagging pants and pulled out his phone. “i need to document this. for the record.” he snapped a photo of isak staring up at him with an annoyed look on his face. “this was the first time isak denied me.” even snorted. “it looks like you’re about to give me a very angry blowjob though.” he showed isak the photo.

if he weren’t so frustrated by the situation, isak would’ve laughed. that’s exactly what the photo looked like with that angle. unfortunately isak’s face just made even want to persuade him even more, so even tucked his phone under his chin and promptly shoved his pants down to his ankles. he was wearing bright red boxer briefs and he shook his ass in isak’s face. then, before isak could get a grip on his body, sexual or otherwise, even waddled up the few remaining steps and reached for the door. isak screamed, “NO!” at the same time as their kitchen, full of friends and coworkers, screamed “SURPRISE!” at a nearly naked even.

maja screamed, marius howled, and mikael took approximately 50 photos, the flash of his phone camera lighting up the kitchen like a red carpet. isak was so embarrassed he sank down behind even’s legs. even laughed and made no move to get dressed.

“pull up your motherfucking pants even! i came here for your birthday, not a peep show.” kari anne's booming voice had a hint of a laugh in it.

it did not occur to isak until just then that all of their friends were not just seeing even in his underwear—they were seeing even’s boner in his underwear. so despite isak’s desire to melt into a puddle right there on the steps, he now felt enough possessiveness to lunge forward and pull up even’s pants from behind. it was a challenge to dress someone blind, especially when that someone was a giggly, wriggly mess. isak got a flash of the kind of future where he was getting a toddler dressed, but he had no time for that future right then. he got even’s jeans up to his butt and then he had to forcibly turn his boyfriend around in order to navigate his bulge.

“looks like dinner with the parents went well, then!” elias shouted out, making everyone laugh again and isak’s cheeks turn an impossible red.

“oh, babe.” even finally noticed isak’s general struggle. he took over with his pants and hefted them up to his waist. “i’m sorry. i should have listened to you. but this was amazing and hilarious. are you okay?” he buttoned his jeans and cupped isak’s jaw.

isak was still too flustered to say anything. his eyes darted from even’s face to the gleeful faces behind him, checking to see who was still laughing. “come on, bedroom.” even started walking isak backward toward the privacy of their bedroom. “five minutes!” he announced to everyone else.

“i thought you only needed two!” someone else shouted back.

―――

the laughter and voices faded as soon as the door closed. isak spun around and flopped himself on the bed face first. “surprise,” he mumbled. even collapsed on top of him, blanketing him with rough denim and warm skin.

“this was the best surprise ever. i’m sorry i embarrassed you with my penis.” even added a little thrust as if that would convey sincerity. the heat that flushed isak’s cheeks now was a slightly different kind. even nuzzled his face against isak’s cheek and gave him a few kisses. “i’ll get dressed and we can hang out with my favorite people.”

even pushed up and went to the closet. he swapped out his jeans for grey sweatpants and put on a white t-shirt. isak kept his jeans but opted for a clean white t-shirt too. even swept isak into a hug before they went through the door. “i love you in general and i love you for this. thank you for such a nice gift, and the perfect way to relax after the family dinner.” he squeezed across isak’s back and then shifted his head in for a kiss. isak demanded tongue as part of even’s apology and he got it, a nice open, wet kiss that tasted like champagne. even grunted when they parted. “um, yes. friends first, but then we’re definitely revisiting the naked thing.”

isak agreed with an aggressive grip on even’s ass. even kissed his way out of it and wiggled toward the door.

the kitchen roared with another greeting when they appeared, birthday wishes thrown from every direction. even opened his arms and accepted all of them with a wide smile. “thank you all for coming. this is such a fun surprise, and i clearly had no idea.”

“it was a fun surprise for us as well,” kari anne smirked.

“since we’re all here and there is a grotesque amount of alcohol behind mutta, have we agreed to absolutely ruin our sunday night?” another cheer went up. isak moved around even to get to the counter by mutta.

as requested, everyone bought the alcohol isak had assigned them and paid for. he couldn’t bring much into the apartment on his own without raising suspicion, so he spread out the drinks, food, and decorations among their friends. maja and marius picked up a cake from a bakery on their side of town. mutta and kari anne brought most of the alcohol. sana and yousef brought food from mamma bakkoush, enough to last them at least a week. elias and mikael were on decorations & entertainment duty. their friends had started drinking, as was to be expected when you’re trapped in an apartment for a couple of hours. since everyone had helped themselves to the juice and ice in the fridge, isak didn’t bother with setting anything else up. he searched for sana in the small crowd, who was chatting with mikael by the entrance to the hallway. when he caught her eye he nodded a question and she held up a full glass in response. with her taken care of he mixed up a dark & stormy for even.

“here you go, babe.” he only interrupted even’s conversation with marius and maja to put the cup in his hand. then he went back to the counter to assess the food. yousef joined him to point out the options.

“all of even’s favorites. mamma didn’t leave the kitchen all morning. this…this tray is okay. these two should be reheated a bit.”

“okay, thanks.” isak reached over to start the oven.

“and this we actually eat cold sometimes, so it would be fine as is.”

they figured out the food and then isak moved on to the living room. everyone was still in the kitchen, so isak got to see the decoration efforts as intended. streamers looped colorfully from even’s shelves, carefully taped as to not disturb his toys. balloons hovered at the ceiling, their strings becoming vines that dusted isak’s shoulders. on the coffee table was a pile of markers and a large brown envelope. he went right to the envelope to see what was inside. “yesssss.” isak dumped out the contents and spread them out. he had found ten particularly embarrassing photos, a mix of recent shots from isak and childhood ones from sigrid, that he’d ordered temporary tattoos of. he had a good feeling that this group was going to get very creative with the placement. in the very least he knew exactly where he wanted a tattoo of even on his own body. he practically skipped back out to the kitchen to get water and a sponge.

everyone had started eating, so isak joined the queue for a little bit of the bakkoush cuisine. no matter how full they were, isak and even would always make room for mamma’s food. isak refreshed even’s drink and then led some people into the living room to eat, for more seating. even stayed in the kitchen at the table with sana, yousef, and kari anne.

maja screamed again when she saw the tattoos. she and marius abandoned their food immediately and took the sponge to the bathroom. three minutes later marius returned with at least four evens plastered across his face. then he dared mikael to do even more. after that, it was chaos.

elias tried to tie a balloon to the back of sana’s hijab. kari anne was the first one to get a tattoo of even on her ass cheek. mutta and mikael started doing shots, and marius and maja were caught making out in the stairwell when it was time to break open the markers on the door. their defense was that maja could stand on one step above marius and they would be a closer height for kissing.

“like my apartment is the only place with steps, get the fuck out.” isak shoved marius against the door. but that’s exactly where everyone stayed. they all shared the markers and wrote silly birthday messages to even on the door, reading old ones and laughing, and recording new jokes that they now all shared. the graffiti door was due for an update and everyone got a chance to leave their mark. isak made sure no one wrote over his original “shithead,” and he added a couple more questionable names wherever they fit.

unfortunately marius convinced maja to paint her lips with marker ink and kiss the door, but then she was stuck with deep purple lips. sana immediately dragged her up to the bathroom to start exfoliating. isak had to console maja from the doorway. “i’ll get emma to give me some lipsticks that would cover it up if it doesn’t come off.”

“matte,” sana instructed.

isak opened his recording app and noted that: “matte lipsticks from emma for maja.”

“anything from a maroon to a magenta should cover it up.” isak added that. “in the meantime, here, you can use this.” sana pulled a tube of lipstick out of her small crossbody bag and opened a drawer. she plucked an alcohol wipe from where even kept them next to the tweezers and cleaned off the tube and used lipstick. she handed it to maja and maja looked like she was about to cry from the gesture. sana nipped it in the bud with a glare and a single finger held up in maja’s face. “just be glad your friends are so clean.”

isak blushed, assuming sana knew that they had those wipes to clean their toys. but then marius burst into the bathroom, shoving isak aside. “baby, it looks like we just kissed too hard for a little bit. ‘cheer up! a hickey from kenickie is like a hallmark card,’” he quoted in his best american accent. this actually made maja cry so isak excused himself and went to get more alcohol.

eventually yousef was tasked with getting mutta and mikael home. marius gave maja a piggy back ride down four flights of stairs and across the city. they found kari anne had removed her pants and crawled into their bed, so they left her there. sana, even, and elias collapsed onto the couch and giggled their way through a nonsense conversation the way siblings do. isak put the food away, got water for them all, and then joined them on the floor with his giant pillows. even found grease on the tv and they watched and sang along with the few bits they knew. then isak fell asleep, his fingers wrapped lightly around even’s ankle and his head resting against even’s knee.

[bearkkyou]

Thunderstorms and Late Night Kisses

And the degeneracy starts! You’re in my world now, stay or get out lmfao This is some Boyfriend x Pico shit that I can’t stop writing, it’s just a ton of fluff because i have none in my life! 1389 words total.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------The weather forecast this morning was sunny, with no clouds in sight, but holy shit were they wrong. It was raining so hard that the drops sounded like someone knocking forcefully knocking on the window instead of tapping like how it should sound. Pico had taken off his headphones various times just to get up and make sure that no one was at the door. Pico loved when it rained hard, it made his house feel cooler than usual, and it was always relaxing. He continued to watch some videos on his laptop before hearing pounding once again, but this time it was on his door. Startled, he stood up, grabbing his Uzi, making sure that his footsteps were quiet and swift, as he swung his front door open and pointed straight ahead, quickly lowering his guard when he saw Boyfriend standing on his doorstep, soaked in rainwater, shaken up and nervous. “Babe, what are you doing here?” Pico ushered his lover inside, worried for him, as all Boyfriend did was stand there and shudder, clearly not in a good state. Pico immediately became concerned, and went over to Boyfriend, slowly putting his hand on his lover’s shoulder to try and snap him out of it, and the second he made contact, Boyfriend jumped and clung to Pico, hugging him tightly. “Pico… Don’t let me go, please…” Pico hugged his lover back tightly, slowly caressing his head, kissing it softly. “It’s ok, I’m here. Let’s get you in the bath, ok? You can tell me what’s wrong once you’ve calmed down. I won’t let go, ok?” Pico walked Boyfriend to the bathroom slowly, making sure not to shake him up more than he already was. He sat Boyfriend down on the toilet seat and ran a warm bath, before stripping his lover down, and setting him into the warm water. Pico rolled up his sleeves before he began to gently wash Boyfriend, planting small, soft kisses along his arms, neck and face in an attempt to calm his lover down. “Are you okay now, babe?” Pico questions softly, as he rinses Boyfriend with warm water, making sure it wasn’t too hot or too cold. “Mhm… Thank you, Pico… I just… I don’t like storms like this… The thunder and the lightning really scare me, especially if I’m home alone, and I just can’t be alone when they come. I would sleep through it if I could, but the rain is just so loud…” Boyfriend answered softly, still shaken up, but he looks calmer than before. Pico helped him out of the tub and wrapped him up in a towel before bringing him over to his room, getting a spare change of warm clothes, dressing his lover up before changing his own wet clothes. Pico had showered about 20 minutes before Boyfriend showed up, and he wasn’t about to leave Boyfriend alone just to run some hot water on his face. “Next time, I’ll go over to your house, ok? You don’t have to come here and get soaked and potentially get sick just because you don’t want to be alone.” Pico pulled out a hairdryer from one of his dresser drawers and plugged it into the wall before turning it on, softly blow-drying Boyfriend’s hair. He tried to be as calming and kind as possible, not accustomed to giving care. Pico never knew that Boyfriend was afraid of thunderstorms and he really wanted to try and do his best to calm his lover down. After a while, Boyfriend’s hair was finally dry, and Pico put the blow-dryer down on his desk. “There, now your hair is nice and dry. If you want me to do anything else, or need me to do anything else at all, let me know, ok? For now, let’s just stay in bed.” As he spoke, Pico moved Boyfriend over from the chair he was sitting on, to the cozy bed right behind them, placing him down softly. The storm only got worse as Pico laid down next to Boyfriend, opening his arms wide, accepting his lover with warm cuddles and a kiss on the head. He could feel Boyfriend’s nervous shaking, his heartbeat racing against his lower chest, and he heard how Boyfriend’s breath would hitch in his throat as the lightning struck, waiting for him to weakly exhale when the sound of booming thunder came to haunt him. Boyfriend held onto Pico tightly as if he was the only thing keeping him from blowing away in the storm, and Pico couldn’t help but blush excessively at the adoring affection, making sure to hold onto Boyfriend just as tight as a way of saying that he wasn’t letting him go anywhere. Pico rubbed small circles into Boyfriend’s back, watching him slowly but surely relax. At some point, Boyfriend had fallen asleep, and Pico stayed awake, making sure to keep him in this state of calm, not wanting his lover to wake up in a state of disarray and start panicking. The rain had significantly calmed down, the once harsh drops now becoming a quaint little patter against the bedroom window. Pico wanted to do something nice for Boyfriend before he woke up, and he didn’t know what to do, until it hit him. What’s the best thing to have on a rainy day? Soup, of course! Chicken soup, preferably, but Pico doesn’t know how to make chicken, so he thought of the closet thing that was soup related and came to the conclusion that tomato soup would work just fine. Tomato soup with a grilled cheese sandwich, who wouldn’t love that? Pico had made up his mind and decided that he would only be gone for a little bit. He slowly let Boyfriend go and covered him with a warm blanket before heading off to the kitchen to try and cook something nice for his boyfriend. He put on the apron that Nene bought him and got to cooking. Pico put the tomatoes he bought and cut in a deep oven dish, seasoned them with salt, pepper and olive oil, and stuck them in the oven while he diced up some onions and garlic. When the tomatoes were done baking, he threw everything into a pot with some butter and added some extra seasonings before letting everything simmer. While he waited, he quietly walked to his bedroom to check up on Boyfriend to make sure he was still sleeping and covered with the blanket. He opened the door just by a little crack and took a peak inside. Seeing that his lover was safe, warm and sound asleep, he closed the door and went back to the kitchen. After the tomatoes simmered for a while, he added milk and flour and stirred continuously, watching the aromatic, red liquid thicken immensely. He left it to simmer once more before making 2 grilled cheese sandwiches, one for him and one for Boyfriend. Grabbing the handheld blender, he blended the tomatoes together before pouring the soup into 2 different bowls, setting the tray on the table. He looked over at what he did as he took off the apron, and he felt extremely proud of himself, he can only hope that it tastes as good as it looks. Pico slowly walked to his room and opened the door quietly, before sitting on the bed next to Boyfriend. “Hey, babe?” He whispered softly, as he softly caressed Boyfriend’s cheek, waking him up as nicely as possible. “Mhh?” Boyfriend opened his eyes before stretching, rubbing them softly, “What happened…?” He questioned, still half asleep. “I made you some food, yeah? I bet you’re hungry, so come meet me in the kitchen when you’re fully awake.” Pico kissed Boyfriend softly, before walking to the kitchen, watching his lover soon follow behind. Pico explained that he decided to try his hand at cooking for once, and when he mentioned that he wanted to care for Boyfriend and do something nice, it made Boyfriend light up with joy as he sat down to eat. They had decided that the food that Pico cooked came out surprisingly well, considering he almost never cooks. They spent the rest of the day cuddled up in Pico’s room, stomachs full of good food, and arms full of each other’s love and care.

[carbrakes-and-stakes]

Soup in Genovia | Jared & Alain

TIMING: A week ago LOCATION: Alain’s home PARTIES: @carbrakes-and-stakes​ and @themidnightfarmer SUMMARY: No palates were harmed in the making of this chatzy.

Backpack on and a smile on his face Jared made his way right to the door and raised his hand to knock. He had soup - or rather his attempt at soup-, a DVD of the princess diaries (just in case), and a winning attitude. He hoped for the best at least, they’d only spoken a couple of times but the nymph had hopes that he could win a new friend in Alain. The man seemed like he could be a laugh when he wanted to be, and someone with a little logic never went amiss when you felt you had very little yourself. Jared was even willing to look past the karkanoid eating, a one time event, clearly the man was simply a food enthusiast after all. Above all these thoughts however lingered the knowledge that no matter if Alain wanted a friend in Jared, he had suggested he wanted some company while he recovered from losing his leg. And who was he to deny the man that?

There was enough energy in Jared's attitude to fuel power plants from a small country for a few months. At least, this was Alain's first thought when he opened the door and glanced at his visitor. If he wasn't really counting on Jared, it was because they got their heads on a karkanoid that Alain might or might not have killed. Jared suspected that Alain had eaten it, and Alain, while he was disgusted by the thought of ever eating something that must have had the most elastic and rubbery flesh, was not about to contradict him about this. Walking toward the kitchen, Alain who was still struggling with his new leg, was helping himself with a cane, and while that instantly gave him the look of a lame old man, this was better than  what would have happened without this kind of support. His eyes went to what Jared carried with him, and the man wondered what it was that he had brought over. It did not smell like much, but the French man had enough spices and aromatics around to turn it around. “What did you cook?” He asked, looking forward to it.

Jared followed Alain, being very careful to not seem like he was snooping too much as they went. He was a bit of a nosy guy, so it was taking a ton of willpower not to glance at every door they passed or squint at every picture. Distraction came at last and Jared beamed shrugging off his backpack. “Soup bud! I figured people always make soup in the movies when someone is recovering from something, so soup was the top choice. Never made soup before but I heard it wasn’t too hard?” Jared produced the container of liquid and pushed it towards Alain. Inside was a pretty grim sight, uncoloured water with partially uncooked and hastily chopped vegetables floating inside. “It smells okay right?” The nymph asked the other curiously. To Jared it smelt just how most of his cooking smelt…. Not like anything from the store but not overly terrible.

Alain’s eyebrows raised. Sure, soup did not smell like much in the first place, but this smelled an awful lot like the kind they served at the hospital, which was a shame as he assumed the vegetables came from Jared’s farm. “That’s a broth,” he observed, reaching over his head for the cupboards. Pulling a cast iron casserole out, he picked up the soup and poured it in there, searching around for the hand blender. Perks of moving somewhere knew : not knowing where a damn thing had been put. “It does smell okay, but I think we might be able to do better,” it did not seem seasoned and Alain knew that he’d rather lose his second leg than be forced to eat something that had no flavor. Or perhaps was this an exaggeration. “Wait, you’ve never made soup?” He did not say those words with any trace of judgement. Instead he was genuinely surprised, as well as touched, that Jared had been so thoughtful to try something new to make him feel better. Moved by this revelation, the hunter fell quiet, although his tight lipped smile revealed that he was pleased by the kind gesture. “Alright, let’s take this soup to the next level then. Let me show you,” first they’d have to turn broth into soup. Then, well, depending on what Jared had put in there, perhaps something could be done to save it. Alain grabbed a spoon to have a taste and gave him a shrug. “It’s not too bad, although it doesn’t taste like much,” handing the spoon over, he smiled. A bit of cumin, perhaps some carvi, a touch of butter and tabasco, and this soup would gain a lot more flavor, he thought to himself. “What do you think we should add?”

“A broth isn’t soup?! Jared wondered curiously. The nymph spent such little focus on feeding himself that all his meals blended together, he usually had much more important meals to be served to his kids after all. False blue eyes followed Alain as he moved around the kitchen to seemingly cook the soup again, for a reason that completely escaped Jared. “It still needs cooked? I thought I’d done okay?” He wasn’t overly upset to know that he hadn’t done a great job, he was told an awful lot that he tended not to make anything very good. “See this is why I stick to tinned food, it’s all there in the tin no messing around.” Jared leaned on the counter and smiled “Nah, never had the motivation to really try before. But soup is a movie staple, I had to give it a go!” Taking the offered spoon Jared dipped it into the pot and tasted it for himself. He had to admit it was a little bland. “Probably some of that powder garlic that I’ve seen people put in everything? But I don’t know, I don’t know a ton about cooking and all that… “

“No. Otherwise a sauce could be called soup by some too,” Alain was concerned as to how the young farmer was eating, especially since he seemed to be living on his own. Perhaps Alain would show him a few more things later on, but for now Cooking 101 would do. “It’s cooked, but… well you’ll understand when you taste it,” he leaned against the counter to give his leg some rest and smiled back. “And I commend you for trying. That’s more than some people do,” he patted the man’s arm and nodded at his suggestion. “Or, you know, we could use some proper garlic instead,” Alain didn’t have something against the powdered kind, but it did not replace the actual condiment. Reaching in a jar for cloves, he peeled a couple and pushed them toward Jared so he could crush them in a mortar. Rather than cumin, he opted for a bit of curry paste, mixing it in. “Alright, add the garlic and then we should be good to go,” the point was showing Jared that sometimes all it took was seasoning. Alain thought then, of what Alcher had told him in that waiting room, and let his guard down, “thank you, for being here,” he looked away and added, “it means a lot.”

“I’d happily call sauce a soup.” Jared laughed a little at the idea. “God people would hate that wouldn’t they?” It made his little fae heart flutter, he hadn’t yet fully embraced how much fae thrive on chaos of some kind, but he could relish in the small bits and pieces every now and then. “I mean I won’t lie bud, I usually eat tinned beans or pie or whatever, but it seemed like the moment to try harder than tinned soup.” Proper garlic just made Jared think of the entire thing like some sort of vampire movie, it didn’t seem too appetizing until Alain had peeled and crushed it in front of him. It made a LOT more sense in pieces he could admit. Smelling the soup as it progressed with so little added had Jared understanding that he definitely needed to be trying harder, but that’d come in time he hoped. “Oh hey don’t worry about it bud,” he wanted to add something like I like to be helpful, or You sounded like you needed the company but he wasn’t sure the reception that would have so instead he straightened up and leaned over to point at the soup. “So it’s edible now yeah? Got bowls around or you wanna save it for laters?” The nymph smiling warmly back at Alain.

“Jared…” The hunter looked at him then shook his head. He looked like he didn't really know whether he should be amused or bewildered, but, when in doubt, he preferred to be amused. “I think people would hate that very much, yes,” he admitted with a bit of laughter. He shook his head again, and you could see the amusement in his features: a rare smile, which made him close his eyes almost entirely. Jared must have been one of the most caring people the hunter knew. He reminded him a little of Nora, and it was with a twinge of heart that Alain wondered if he would eventually lose sight of Jared, if his new friend was to discover the true nature of his host.

“Tinned pie? Is that an actual thing?” Concern and disgust swept over him. With a scowl, Alain, apparently personally offended, could not restrain a gasp. “I’m glad you tried something new, that’s what’s most important here,” he felt a bit bad for having to tell Jared that his broth was far from edible as is. A viable option would have been to take everything out of the water and mash it together, but this was meant to be a soup, and Alain wanted to help Jared with that. “It was edible when you brought it, but edible is not the best you can get from these,” he pointed to the inside of the pot. “As you like. Didn’t you say you wanted to force me into watching a … movie,” the thing looked like it was targeted at teenagers and Alain had a bad feeling about it, but he had decided that he would not be grumpy with someone trying their best to help.

It was already cemented in Jareds mind. He wondered how much chaos he could elicit and how far he could go with it as well. Could pasta be a soup with enough sauce? Could alcohol be a soup? It would be from now on. The nymph grinned back at Alain, pleased that he’d managed to coax a laugh out of the man at least. “Tinned pie is a thing, it’s like a treat for the weekends sometimes if I can get it. Basically you use a can opener on the top and the entire thing just needs warmed up, the crust and all that are in there and it just has to rise on the top and it’s good to go!” Jared described it to Alain as if it was a magical event, which -despite the nymph knowing true magic first hand- felt like it sort of was.

Bringing up the movie was arguably a bad move on the hunters part, Jared was likely to be content and forget all about why he’d come had it not come up in conversation, however as soon as the words left Alains lips Jared had perked right up again and started to wiggle as if he were an excited puppy. He reached back into his backpack and pulled the DVD out and then also produced a VHS tape as well. “I didn’t know which you’d have, can never be sure in this place whether DVD players even work.” Jared laughed lightly before pushing them across the counter towards Alain. “We could soup and video at the same time maybe? I won’t be offended if the running commentary is criticism, I just do feel like it’s an essential watch even if you don’t like it!” The nymph looked at Alain expectantly for comment and first impression of the box covers.

The description of that pie that must have been summoned from a foreign inferno called capitalism brought a dramatic blink out of Alain. "What in the culinary hell is that? Cake mixes I can tolerate, but this sounds atrocious," the hunter told himself that he no longer just feared bugbears. He now feared bugbears and tinned pies. Shaking his head, he frowned once again and grimaced. What felt like magic to Jared felt like the 7th circle of Hell to the hunter.

He would have been offended about being treated like a dinosaur by Jared had it not been for the fact that he kept a VHS player somewhere, just in case. Of course Netflix was a thing, but there was something nostalgic about those grainy tapes. Still, he had not reinstalled it, and the thing sat in a box in the attic, between the hunting gear and the rock climbing equipment. The latter he knew that he would use in perhaps a couple years, but the former, he intended to keep upstairs. "We can have dinner and watch all at once, sure," although Alain intended to eat on the dinner table. Soup and couches sounded like a bad, perilous match. As much as he did not care much for danger, he knew what a pain it would be to clean that mess up. "Why don't you pick up the pot and bring it on the dinner table? I'll get some plates out," he picked a bottle of white wine as well, and headed there. Another trip to the kitchen later, and Alain was back with spoons and glasses. He kept his mouth shut about the box covers. The main character made him feel uneasy although he was unable to pinpoint why. "I cannot believe I agreed to watch something The Princess Diaries. Look what you make me do," his eyes grew bigger. Jared was too kind and innocent for the hunter to be annoyed at him, and Alain did have a soft spot for these sorts of personalities.

“It tastes good bud, you gotta trust the process.” It was very clear that they were on completely different levels with their food tastes, whilst Alain seemed to have a refined palate….Jared seemed to not have any taste at all. “And I’ve never tried box cake mix so I suppose I’ll leave that one for you to make the choice for us with.” he laughed at the expression on Alains face, it was good humoured, the nymph definitely had failed to notice how serious the other was about his disgust and was definitely not acting. In dopey indifference to Alains reaction to being asked about a VHS, instead the nymph was excited to see what the other would say about the movie as a whole, he was interested to see what Alain would criticise and what he’d stay silent on. Especially considering the man had already expressed his disgust with the concept. Accepting the offer to serve up at the table Jared lifted his soup with a bit of pride. He may not have been the one to make it enjoyable, but it was still his base ingredients so he was going to take what he could get. “Oh come on, surely a movie hasn’t made you spin into disbelief? Surely your friends have gotten you to watch weird stuff before.” Jared laughed. He set up the pot and looked around for where to put the movie on. It hadn’t even really considered the fact that the movie might be on netflix or some streaming site. He didn’t have anything like that at his home after all. “You’ve got to have one other movie under your belt that wasn’t what anyone would expect right?”

“They have. One of them forced me into watching this show about very rich highschoolers in New York who were stalked by a blogger,” Alain couldn’t remember the name of the show, but he remembered feeling little empathy for these people. He didn’t watch television for a good reason, but Alain felt like there was something nice about watching terrible tv with someone else, not because the show instantly became excellent, but rather for the opportunity to complain about how terrible it was. A dramatic blink welcomed the opening scene of the movie. He looked at Jared and deadpanned. “This looks great,” his shoulders shot up with amusement. Grabbing his spoon, he tasted the soup and glanced again at Jared. “Again, I’m repeating myself, but thanks for being here.” The former hunter looked around the room. The house still was foreign to him, and it didn’t help that he hadn’t unpacked most of the boxes there. Perhaps it was better that way. Ever since he had decided to quit his former life, he felt less and less anchored to this town.

The nymph paused a moment and then cottoned on “Oh gossip girl? It was gossip girl right? That’s full of rich people's nonsense.” Jared agreed with that at least. He’d attempted that show one afternoon of boredom, and was put right off by how lavish they were all acting. Seemed the farm boy couldn’t relate one bit. Completely in a different headspace than Alain, the blond was watching with rapt attention as the opening scene began. His attention only drew away when Alain addressed him. “Oh bud, wouldn’t dream of watching this with anyone else.” he joked lightly, finally lifting his own spoon to have some of the soup himself. “I have a pretty wild schedule on the farm, so I can always make some time if you’re wanting to hang out or watch shitty movies, or… well anything really.” Jared followed the hunters eyes and looked around the room also. “Unpacking party or whatever.” he tacked on the end helpfully.

“Yeah, that.” It was rich people's nonsense, although he did not recall his sisters ever acting so vainly. His eyes were drawn to the boxes that hadn’t been opened. Nostalgia hit him as he thought of his former house, where he had been spending a good bit of his life. There were things that you simply could not move around, and memories were included in that category. He never had liked keeping trinkets and knick knacks, but in times where he was feeling sentimental, he regretted it. Oh well, this would make moving abroad easier. He would not be able to take all his belongings with him overseas. “How kind of you,” he stood up to get bread from the kitchen, served himself another plate of soup and sighed as Jared offered help. “That won’t be necessary,” rather than to be unnecessarily mysterious, he gave him a tightlipped smile that wrinkled the corner of his eyes, and explained, “I intend to leave town for a little while. I’m moving abroad.”

Jared felt a small stab of loss when Alain explained his intention to move out of town. It seemed a lot of his new friends tended to not last so long in this place. But the Nymph smiled back nevertheless. It wasn’t up to him, and likely it was already all set up and sorted out. “That sounds exciting, where do you think you’ll be going or have you already got it all set up for yourself?” He asked politely, looking away from the boxes and intending on making the very most of this movie and dinner with his newfound and newly lost friend. Jared supposed a turnaround like this really stopped him from getting too attached, like he had with so many before the other man. “But hey shh shhh this is a good part.” He cut in with a small forced laugh trying to focus back in on the movie. He was going to make the most of this.

If he was left perplexed by the suggestion that one could leave to another place without a single bit of planning, he tried to shrug that off. Jared clearly was a lot more spontaneous than Alain had ever been. Always planning, always trying to have control. It was a shame, in the end, that he did not seem to have any control on his own life. Leaving town would give him the chance to finally do something with his life without a single thought going to his sense of duty. The code, the rules, the duty : a lot of words to describe not having the right to do as you please. Perhaps it was time to write his own rules, ones that he would be comfortable with or perhaps was it not too late to start over, and rather was it time to turn this heavy page of his life. He didn’t want to burn the whole book. There were good moments in the life that he was living. There was a lot of pain there too, for certain, and a good dose of tragedy here and there. 

The man found himself brought back years back, back when he had had a chance to build a family. He heard Jared, and if he had a smile on his face while he looked at that crucial scene of the movie, his mind was somewhere else. Nostalgia had flown in like a peaceful summer breeze, and the fond memories felt like a warm embrace. It was true that he would miss this place very much, and Alain certainly regretted leaving all these people he cared for behind. He gave Jared a fond look. He hoped that he would be okay, and that the forever gargantuesque town of White Crest would not end up eating alive the poor innocent soul that he was. He didn’t have such worries for Erin, or Kaden, or even Jasmine. The three of them were tougher than stones, in their own ways. Stubbornness, bravery and determination. Perhaps was it why he instantly liked these people so much. Of all the things he was leaving behind, they had to be the toughest part. Finding people you could count on, and who could understand you might have been the hardest task for him. Sometimes he blamed it on being a hunter, one that did not stray away from duty (after all, it was this that had scared Evelyn away from him), sometimes he just figured that perhaps he was just not good at this. A mix of the two might have been the proper answer to that transparent mystery. It was easier to move on after being used to loss like he had been. After a certain age, you developed a certain craving for new adventures, and the fear of having wasted your time crept in. He would be alright, in very normal and very away from here Provence. 

[fight-surrender]

Happy Birthday @Penpanoply!

Happy Birthday to my dear, incredibly brave, resilient, disturbingly positive, breathtakingly talented friend and purveyor of phenomenal hugs @penpanoply

Here’s a lil ficlet I wrote, inspired by your love of peanut sauce. I hope you don’t hate it <3 <3

Life is a Bowl of Peanut Sauce

Word Count: 1025

Read on AO3

Baz 

“Hey babe.” Simon calls from the kitchen as I walk in the door.

The counter is a war zone of ingredients, as it tends to be when Snow cooks. I pause a moment to survey the damage. Hm. Not the usual dusting of flour and scone ingredients. This time it’s an exotic blend of lime husks, ginger knobs, garlic peels, bottle of tamari and—I do a double take—a jar of peanut butter.  “What the hell are you doing, Snow?” That came out a little sharper than intended, but I’m knackered. Work was a beating and the Thai place was running even more laboriously behind than usual.  “I told you I was getting takeaway.” I drop the bag on the island with an insulted thud.

“I know,” He sing-songs, pressing the button on the blender with a flourish. “I love that place,” he shouts over the whine of the machine. Merlin, I hate that infernal device. Its repulsively loud presence is an insult to the quiet sanctity of my home. The closest I ever came to breaking up with Simon was during his smoothie phase. (I would never actually break up with Simon.) (I did consider throwing the vile machine out the window though.) Thank Circe he decided he’d rather eat his meals than drink them.

If I was an emotionally mature adult, I would share with Simon how much I hate the fucking blender. I’m not, so instead I school my features and seethe in a pit of roiling fury until it cuts off. Simon, selfishly oblivious to my turmoil, has his back to me, bopping his head to whatever insipid nineties pop song is rattling around in there. What spell can I use to blow up the blender that won’t harm him?

Snow shuts the monstrosity off, restoring peace and order to the universe. I can breathe again. Everything is right with the world. I notice Simon must have gotten his hair cut today. I resist the urge to run my hands through the freshly shorn back and sides. It’s like velvet in this state, I usually start at his neck then work my way up into the curls. Simon’s bronze locks are always deliciously silky after my stylist has her way with them.

Simon takes the lid off of the blender and smiles down at his concoction. I sidle next to him to have a look, taking the opportunity to gratuitously rub his head. “What the fuck is that, Snow?” I recoil in horror. “It looks like baby shit.”

“Now, now Baz, that’s no way to talk about my culinary masterpiece,” Snow knocks my shoulder with his. “Anyway, what do you know about baby shit?”

“I have four significantly younger siblings. I have experienced more than my share of baby shit.”

“Oh, come off it, you posh git. You had nannies and staff.” Simon counters.

“They worked part-time. Daphne believed in hands-on parenting,” I shudder, “Which apparently translates to – make Baz deal with the kids while I work or engage in self-care.”  I have nightmares of those summers. If I ever have to see another episode of Caillou or Thomas the Tank Engine, I may actually commit infanticide. “

Simon turns and slides his arms around me. “The horrors you’ve had to endure, my love,” He pulls me into an all-enveloping and vaguely condescending hug. “You are truly an inspiration to us all.”

“Fuck off,” I say halfheartedly, running my fingers through his curls for emphasis. “What is that vile sludge? It smells of peanuts and despair.”

“You’re half right,” Simon says, disentangling himself from me and dipping his finger into the carafe. The finger emerges covered in what looks like a terribly embarrassing bodily secretion and he proceeds to lasciviously lick it off.

“If you are trying to seduce me by licking that slop off of your finger, you are sorely misguided,” I say, leaning away. And that’s saying something, because normally, even Simon putting on deodorant is seductive.

“Come on, Baz, where’s your sense of adventure?” Simon grins at me and takes another swipe at the vile goop, sucking on his finger again.

“It stops at food that looks like gastrointestinal distress, Snow.”

Snow rolls his eyes and bumps my hip with his. “It’s peanut sauce, you coward. That place never gives us enough, so I thought I’d make my own.”

“Disgusting,” I reply, taking the bag of food to the table. “I never touch that stuff.”

I pop the staples on the package and start parceling out containers. “Anyway, I’m allergic to peanuts.”

“What?” Simon has poured the sauce into a soup bowl and dropped it at his spot. Sliding his chair back, “Do vampires have allergies?” His face is twisted adorably.

“Yeah, that garlic thing is a myth. It’s peanuts that can kill us.” I say absently, tossing him a box of spring rolls.

“Well, fuck this then,” Simon gets up with his bowl of muck and heads for the sink.

Shit. I scramble to grab Snow before he divests himself of his beloved sauce, “I’m just kidding, you knob. I’m not allergic to peanuts.”

“Ah-ha!” Snow smiles, managing to wrap an arm around me while holding his bowl, “I got you, you dramatic twat. Now you have to try this.”

“Absolutely not.”

Simon kisses my cheek before releasing me. “You don’t know what you’re missing, Baz. This is what heaven tastes like.”

“It’s a good thing my road goes straight to hell then.”

Simon hums, “I’ll just have to bring my peanut sauce when I follow you there.” He takes a spring roll and submerges it in sauce, swirling it around to ensure full, horrid coverage.

“Good thing I love you despite your culinary atrocities, Snow.”

Simon swallows the dripping mess in two disturbingly erotic bites. “Good thing I love you despite your shockingly mundane taste in foreign cuisine.”

He eyes me up and down, like I’m a particularly delicious snack. “Now hurry up and eat. I’ve thought up some other uses for this peanut sauce.” He narrows his eyes and gives me his best filthy grin.

“Crowley, Snow.” I nearly choke on my pad see ew. 

[chimaeracabra]

Cooking for Cap

Author’s Note: I’m Nigerian. Lately I’ve been cooking a lot of jollof rice, wanting something new to eat in quarantine times. It’s one of my favorite dishes. Lots of autobiographical info thrown in here.

Genre: Fluff/romance

           Captain Steve Rogers leans attentively against the counter in the kitchen, watching Ada mete out a mess of seasonings he has never cooked with in his life. The centenarian usually ate whatever Sam, Bucky, Wanda, or Nat cooked. He isn’t very handy around the kitchen; he can make a good sandwich, a burger, the standard American diet, but he doesn’t know his way around cooking much where boiling isn’t involved. Ada’s umber gaze meets Steve’s and he blushes a little bit, returning her smile. Her teeth could have literally shined, they were so white in contrast to her rich espresso skin.

           “I’ve heard of thyme,” he nods, as she holds the bottle up his way before dumping a large teaspoon of the herb into a saucer, where she had already collected sea salt, curry powder, and bay leaves.

           “And this?” she asks, holding up a small clear bottle of something he hasn’t used before. The Captain’s wheat gold eyebrows arch as he reads the label.

           “Cayenne…wait, isn’t that the stuff they put in pepper spray?” he asks a little nervously.

Ada laughs.

           “I think so. But don’t worry, it’s still edible. And I never make it too spicy for…well…” Had it not been for the deepness of her complexion, Steve would have seen Ada blush, “when I cook it for other people,” she finishes, her eyes lingering a moment on his exposed forearms. They’re noticeably milky, in stark contrast to the black shirt he’s wearing, which hugs his shoulders such that Ada can see the bulge of his muscles when he shifts, standing up straight and gripping the counter. Measuring half a tea spoon of the lethal spice and adding it to the saucer, Ada’s heart throbs slightly as Steve smiles and starts around the counter until he’s standing next to her, seemingly mesmerized.

           “The recipe actually calls for one and a half teaspoons of cayenne, plus a Scotch bonnet pepper, which I hardly ever use,” she explains, reaching for garlic and plucking about four cloves to peel.

           “And I always like to do my garlic and ginger fresh,” she explains, sparing him a glance. As she peels the garlic, Steve’s white hand gracefully reaches for the plate of seasonings she’s compiling and he lifts it slowly to his nose. He closes his icy eyes and sniffs it gently.

           “Mmmm,” he hums. Ada can just about feel this expression of satisfaction rumbling deep within his chest. He places the saucer back where it was gently.

           “I can’t wait to try it, Ada,” he admits, “Aside from Thai food, I haven’t really had much of anything with all these powerful flavors,” Steve explains.

           “Oh, yes, it’s—”

           “ACHOOO!”

Steve had abruptly turned away from her in time to catch his sneeze, which causes Ada to laugh.

           “Yeah. You never want to straight up sniff pepper,” she says, “Especially not cayenne.”

           “Noted,” Steve sniffles, turning back to her, “Burns a little,” he says with an awkward smile, scratching the back of his neck. His nose has pinkened now and Ada knows that another sneeze is coming. The Captain makes it to the roll of paper towels and catches his sneeze, his ears met with the pleasant ring of Ada’s laughs. She wonders, had she had the actual pepper, whether the star-spangled hero would have been able to handle her jollof. Steve is so overtly strong that it was rather amusing to Ada that a bit of spice could pretty much take him out.

           “Wow, that’s powerful,” he notes, before sneezing again, walking around the counter and returning to his safe distance from Ada’s preparation.

           “It smelled good, though,” he admits, his eyes fixed on what she’s doing with genuine interest. Ada opens the food processor and drops the cloves of garlic in before finally peeling some fresh ginger and adding a smaller amount of the herb to the food processor. It’s loud for about thirty seconds before the device yields the desired result. She adds the minced garlic and ginger to the saucer with everything else. To Steve’s relief, Ada had purchased pre-chopped onions. She had admitted to hating cutting them herself. She often had to use goggles, they made her eyes so sensitive. The red of the bell pepper pops against Ada’s espresso fingers, and the sight is oddly satisfying to Steve’s sapphire gaze. He watches her chop and de-seed all three bell peppers before chopping two plump tomatoes, and adding the onions, peppers, and tomatoes to the Ninja Blender Natasha had bought for the kitchen not too long ago.

It doesn’t take long for the mixture to be like a soup, which Steve observes, having moved around the counter again to stand closer to Ada.

           “This you can safely sniff,” she grins, opening the blender. Steve’s hands brush hers lightly as he reaches for it, and his heart skips a beat. Her laugh chimes in his ears again as he closes his frosty eyes and takes a sniff of the blended vegetables.

           “Smells kinda like…salsa?” he says.

           “It pretty much is, at the moment,” Ada beams. He places the blender on the counter again.

           “Now, will you mix the herbs in?” she asks, handing Steve a wooden spoon. He’s honored she’s allowing him to do anything at this point. He had asked several times before she even started whether he could lend a hand, and Natasha had passed through at one point to tell him to “let the woman cook. He wasn’t Nigerian and didn’t know his way around their food,” which had caused the Captain to roll his eyes genuinely, but it made Ada laugh. And he loved when Ada laughed because her perfect teeth would show and just be so bright against her skin. It made his stomach do summersaults. Steve mixes the herbs into the blended vegetables as thoroughly as he can after removing the blender’s blades.

          He watches Ada pour a half cup of vegetable oil into a large pan and cover it with a lid. At some point between preparing the herbs and chopping the vegetables, she had measured one and a half cups of water and poured it into a separate pot on the stove with the heat medium. She now dumps two and a half cups of brown rice into the pot to parboil it.

          “And then all you do is heat the oil, simmer the vegetable mix, and add in the rice,” she explains, throwing away the peels from the garlic and ginger, the pieces of the bell peppers she omitted.

          “I bet it’s going to smell delicious.” Steve mixes until the herbs are evenly dispersed, “Can I pour it?” he asks.

          “In about ten minutes. Just need the rice to finish parboiling.”

           “Oh, okay.”

          “Normally, we use medium-grain rice in jollof. But I love brown rice,” Ada smiles. Steve loved brown rice, too. It was heartier, more satisfying than white rice. In fact, he thought it more visually appealing, as far as meal preparation went. It was just so earthy and healthy.

          “If my dad saw what kind of rice I use, he would probably roll over in his grave.”

          At this, Steve laughs genuinely, Ada following suit. He liked that she shared things like this with him. It wasn’t very hard to get to know Ada. From the moment he’d begun to train her, Ada had stood out among the other recruits in a way that Steve couldn’t really put his finger on. Maybe it was something in the way that her laugh made his heart race, or her cheekbones which could have cut diamonds, or the perfect way her hips were wide and swung when she walked, Steve blushing now as Ada traipses to the trash to throw away pieces of unused vegetable. He swallows hard. He has never really seen an ass like that.

           “Are you okay?”

           “Huh?”

           “You didn’t sniff that cayenne again, did you?”

           “What?”

           “Your face is so red, Steve,” Ada explains.

Steve glances out the window, and Ada senses the faintest bit of nervousness emanating off of him.

           “Guess that pepper got into the air a bit,” he says.

And he turns away in time to catch another sneeze in his elbow. Little does Ada know that this sneeze was in fact fake. Steve pulls himself together, hearing the sound of the refrigerator dispensing filtered water behind him. When he turns around, Ada is already approaching him with a glass of water.

           “Here you go.”

           “Thanks,” he says, and he blushes like a cherry for a moment. Ada begins to wonder if it was really the cayenne that had gotten to him again.

           “How long does it cook for?”

           “Maybe forty minutes. I usually lose count after thirty. I just like it to cook long enough that the rice is neither squishy, nor too al dente.”

He nods.

           “And the other key ingredient, which I don’t personally use, is a bouillon cube.”

           “Hmmm, I’ve never heard of a b…bou,” Steve struggles with the word, which makes Ada hold back a laugh, “B...booollon cube.” Ada starts laughing and Steve pulls his phone out of his pocket and Googles it. The phone says it and he repeats it correctly with finality, looking rather satisfied with himself.

           “Yes. It’s a—”

           “Stock cube. A type of broth, formed into a small cube about thirteen millimeters wide, typically made from dehydrated vegetables, meat stock, a small portion of fat, MSG, salt, and seasonings, shaped into a small cube,” Steve finishes, flashing her a smile, and pocketing his iPhone. Ada nods.

           “Well, I think what you already used will be more than enough seasonings for me,” he adds, “Plus, I swear I’ve heard some bad news about MSG.”

           “Yeah, that’s part of why I don’t use it,” Ada explains.

           “Did your dad use bouillon cubes?”

           “He did, actually. But I can’t remember him ever making jollof. I do remember him making rice and stew, and when I was in fourth grade, he’d make a lot of it, and my mom would come into the classroom and read about Kwanzaa to my class, hand out the food, and everybody loved it,” Ada continues, this faraway, nostalgic expression surfacing on her face as she leans back against the sink, her arms crossed as she nods into the gustatory memory.

           “Yes, and my mum would bring in these kente cloth scarves and give one to everybody. My classmates really liked the way my mom would read the Kwanzaa book.”

           “It’s like Hanukkah, sort of,” Steve chimes excitedly, “Well, I mean you still have that candle stand, which looks kind of like a menorah. But it’s like a celebration of the harvest, isn’t it?”

When Ada’s umber gaze meets Steve’s again, his pulse quickens.

           “I spent a little bit of time in Wakanda and I was there during some of it,” Steve adds. He’s cultured, curious, open, and eager to learn, something which Ada finds rather delightful.

           “Hmmm, let’s see…” Steve’s frosty gaze is cast skywards momentarily, “There are seven principles. Umoja, for unity in the family and community. Ujima, collective work and responsibility…boy, there’s a bunch I won’t even try to pronounce or I’ll butcher it,” he grins. Ada finds herself very impressed suddenly, especially considering how much trouble he’d had pronouncing bouillon, a French word. The principles just sort of rolled off Steve’s tongue as though he’d said the words regularly.

           “You know a lot more than most people.”

Steve shrugs.

           “Well, that’s a shame. African history is American history.”

           “Very true.”

Ada’s heart swells. There’s a moment of silence between the two, where they’re just looking at each other. Steve shifts slightly, his brawny arms traveling from across his chest, his hands landing on the counter on either side of him. There’s a noticeable vibe or tension between them, so thick that the pair is almost certain they could cut it with a knife.

           “Do you actively celebrate?” Steve asks.

           “Me? Oh, my family did. Sometimes, one of my aunts would invite everyone over and one of my uncles would lead a libation in Igbo,” Ada smiles, lost in memory again, “And in my immediate family, we did it when I was growing up. But over the years, we just kinda got lazy and kept forgetting to light the kinara—the candle holder. So, eventually, we stopped.”

Steve looking rather sad to hear so makes Ada feel the same way.

           “That’s too bad,” he says, “People don’t really observe holidays like they did when I was coming up. We used to actually go to church and mass for Christmas. I never really got that many gifts growing up poor, and now it’s all the kids ever care about. They don’t really understand the significance of the holiday anymore. Same applies to a number of other holidays.”

           “I agree. It’s gotten very…secular.”

Steve sighs wistfully, shakes his head in disappointment.

           “Ada, I tell you, if I had kids, they’d understand their roots and the history behind that. It really teaches values that people don’t exactly bother to pass down in quite the same way in this day and age.” His gaze makes her uncomfortable suddenly, but not in a bad way. Just the way he was talking made it feel like it was about her specifically. Sometimes she forgets just how old Steve is. It’s very clear to her that his life experiences have taught him things in a similar, yet vastly different way. He could appreciate things like this in ways many people were simply not open to in her experience.

           “That makes sense. I mean, I couldn’t really tell you everything about Kwanzaa, if I’m honest. But the food is just so vivid to me.”

           “Food is something everybody likes, right?” Steve beams, “It’s a great way to experience culture.”

           Ada nods, “I’ve never made it myself, but my dad used to make fufu—”

Steve snaps his fingers, “I’ve had that. With the spicy soup? Burnt the mouth off me when T’Challa had me try it,” Steve reminisces. Ada laughs.

           “Very tasty, though.”

           “Yes, that’s why it’s called pepper soup,” she giggles, “You’re brave, Steve.”

           “He warned me, too,” the Captain grins, “But I liked the flavors.”

           “So, then my jollof will be less than mild for you.”

The timer goes off and Steve checks the rice with an oven mitt.

           “This ready?” he asks, gazing into the steaming pot. Ada hurries over to dip her spoon in the side and check that the water is gone. When she finds that it has all evaporated, she nods and turns on the pot inside which she had poured the vegetable oil.

           “Now, we just heat this oil up, and you can add in the vegetable mix.”

Steve reaches for the blender full of blended onions, bell peppers, tomatoes, and herbs, removing the lid and closing his bright eyes to inhale a few more times. There’s something almost erotic about the way his chiseled face develops such a satisfied look. And he gazes down at her, the corner of his full, pink lips curling. Ada melts for a handful of seconds, beginning to sweat a little bit. She suddenly tears her gaze away and uses the same oven mitt with which Steve had checked the rice to lift the lid off the pan of oil and find that it is beginning to bubble and pop.

           “Shit,” she mumbles, “go ahead, before the oil splashes.” She moves clear out of Steve’s way and he pours the vegetable mix into the pan, her ears perking up to the sizzling noise that it makes.

           “Wow,” Steve states, turning the heat down, something Ada was about to do when he beat her to it. He reaches for the wooden spoon and stirs the mix into the oil, as if he has cooked this hundreds of times before.

           “Is this good?” he asks.

           “Yes. You’ve definitely gotta turn the heat down so it doesn’t burn.”

Steve nods. Shortly, he places the lid back on the pot to get it to heat up the vegetable mix faster.

           “And once that’s hot enough, add the rice?”

           “You’re a natural,” Ada shrugs, impressed with his eagerness to cook. Steve has been wanting to get better at cooking, and his hands-on approach allows her to relax a little bit.

           “In the meantime, I’m gonna go ahead and wash these.”

Ada retrieves the blender and the food processor.

           “You’ve already worked so hard. Don’t add in extra work for yourself,” Steve explains, taking the blender out of her hands before she can put it in the sink and opening the dishwasher, which still has dirty dishes from breakfast in it, and the pan on which Wanda had made some sort of Sokovian pancakes for everyone. Ada loves this about being on the team. Everyone is so warm and inviting to her so far, sharing their homelands in the kitchen. She finds herself looking forward to some Asgardian dish Thor had decided to cook for dinner.

           Steve’s milky hand brushes Ada’s as he takes the food processor, disassembling it, and placing the parts strategically in the dishwasher. He then reaches into the cupboard for a clean dishtowel, soaking it under hot water, and adding a little dish liquid before rubbing it to get suds and approaching the counter where she’d prepared ingredients. Ada lifts the cutting board out of his way and pauses at the sink to watch Steve wipe the counter clean. She had seen him clean up before, but something about it is very appealing and she turns away to finally wash the cutting board, glad he can’t see her blush. By the time she turns around, she finds Steve spooning the rice into the pan. She leans against the counter to watch him stir until everything is evenly dispersed. He places the lid on again, turning to look at her.

           “Thirty minutes? Forty?” he asks.

           “Just do thirty for now.”

His fingers punch in the numbers and he looks rather satisfied with himself. His stomach growls audibly and he blushes.

           “The stomach doesn’t lie!”

Ada giggles.

           “Can you wait that long?” she asks.

           “Of course. How about some coffee in the meantime?”

Before Ada can answer, Steve is already pulling the French press and his favourite brand of coffee out of his area in the cupboards. Steve loves coffee. It’s his favorite part of the day, and everyone knows never to borrow Steve’s coffee without asking first. He just wasn’t himself in the morning without it. He preps it all so quickly, producing two large mugs by the time Ada answers him.

           “Sure, I’ll have a little.”

           “A little? Come on,” he says, that New Yorker accent making its way out of his mouth. He winks, causing Ada’s heart to race again. The scooper looks comically small in Steve’s large hand as he scoops a generous amount of the ground beans into the French press. Ada helps him by filling the kettle and placing it on the stove. Steve turns it up high, eager for his coffee.

           “It’s starting to smell good.” Steve hovers near the cooking rice and inspires deeply.

           “It’s my favorite west African dish.”

           “I can always tell by the smell that I’m gonna like something,” Steve explains.

Shortly, the kettle whistles and Steve wastes no time in pouring the boiling water into the French press.

           “You take cream and sugar?” Steve asks, stepping towards the fridge.

           “Uh, I can’t do dairy.”

           “Oh, right. I forgot, sorry,” he explains, glancing back at her before finding her almond milk. He shakes the bottle, something he has seen Ada do several times in the morning before adding some of it to her cereal. He glances at the bottle.

           “You, uh, like vanilla?” he asks. Again, she’s glad he can’t see her blushing.

           “I don’t know what kind of psychopath uses plain almond milk in their cereal,” Ada explains, cocking an eyebrow. This causes Steve to laugh heartily as he places the milk on the counter beside the French press. Ada’s humor is very unique, he has learned, and it always leaves his gut aching, especially when she doesn’t laugh nearly as hard as something she’s said causes others to laugh.

           “Well, you’re in luck, doll,” he says. Doll. Ada has heard him call only his closest female acquaintances this nickname, but something about the way he says it to her is just unique, “‘Cause I only do French vanilla for coffee. I’ll do hazelnut every now and then, but something about vanilla…”

           Many times, Ada had passed by Steve in the kitchen and he’d been caught off guard by something he’d smell. It took a while, but he had begun to realize that it was Ada’s skin or hair. He never got quite close enough to distinguish which part of her it was, but it always smelled very pleasant to him. As she turns on her heel to bring the saucer she had put the herbs on to the dishwasher, her braids whip slightly in their pony tail, and Steve catches the scent again. He closes his eyes in the moment, not wanting the aroma to dissipate. He turns away towards the counter again, unable to fight the fire beneath his cheeks. He keeps his back turned as he presses the plunger down slowly, forcing the coffee beans under pressure, releasing their oils and scent.

           She hasn’t had the pleasure of Steve making her a coffee yet, but he always would if anyone asked. His nisus to get her a cup fascinates her as she watches him lift the lid of the French press. Carefully, he brings it to her nose and she takes a whiff.

           “Wow, that’s powerful,” she says, closing her eyes. Steve smiles.

           “Trust me, you won’t find a brand as good as this one anywhere else,” he promises, handing her the bag so that she can read the label.

           She watches Steve pour and mix some vanilla almond milk into her cup, stirring it gently.

           “You may not even need sugar,” he says, pouring his own cup next. He adds one spoon of sugar to his cup before taking her almond milk back to the fridge. He makes his way back to the counter without the milk.

           “You don’t use creamer?” Ada asks.

           “No. I like my coffee black,” he explains, looking her full in the eyes as he continues to stir his cup. A lump develops in Ada’s throat, and she can’t tear her eyes away from the Captain’s, but her hand reaches shakily with his bag of coffee and places it back on the counter top. There’s not much space between them now, and Steve looking down at her creates that tension again. It’s rather swift when he ducks his head to compensate for her height at last. Her hands already knew where they wanted to land, and she finds herself clutching Steve’s shoulders as his mouth makes full contact with hers.

           Steve’s lips are as kissable as Ada had imagined. They aren’t thin, like some of the white men she’d kissed before. But hers are as juicy as he thought they would feel. His hands rest gently at the small of Ada’s back, and she’s a little surprised when his tongue makes contact with hers. He’s not shy at all. A satisfied mmm emanates from Steve’s mouth, traveling through Ada’s whole being, causing her to shiver, despite the heat of his hands, one of which is drifting towards her rear. He seems to be enjoying a taste, a smell, similarly to how he had sniffed the blended vegetables. She starts to wonder how long Steve has been wanting to do this. The thought had crossed her mind several times.

          “It smells amazing in—!”

Natasha stops dead in her tracks, Steve releasing Ada’s left butt cheek almost as quickly as he had grabbed it.

           “Here,” Natasha finishes, cocking a flaming brow and smiling, Sam beside her looking away as if he hadn’t seen anything, but the two of them know that he did. Steve scratches the back of his head a moment, looking rather disappointed to be interrupted.

           “Ada is making us jollof rice for lunch,” Steve explains, crossing his arms.

           “Uhuh,” Natasha nods, walking towards the cupboards and pulling out one of her bags of popcorn before popping it in the microwave.

           “Call me when it’s ready.” Sam’s voice fades as he makes his way casually out of the kitchen.

           “Well, I’ve been wanting to ask you out on a proper date,” Steve explains, looking hypnotized as he speaks quietly to Ada, knowing that Natasha can still hear him. Ada gazes past him at Natasha, who is grinning knowingly. The redhead gestures to her encouragingly.

           “Ya know, at like a restaurant, where we can eat…in private.”

Ada laughs. For a moment, Steve looks crushed.

           “I’d love to, Steve.”

He exhales in what seems like relief, and they reach for their coffee at the same time, unaware of the buttery aroma filling the kitchen, mingling with the jollof’s savory scent, the popping noises in the background, that same tension resurfacing.

           “It’s about time, Rogers. I knew you liked her!”

Steve nearly chokes on his coffee.

[jabberbeans]

Wangxian Coffeeshop AU: First encounter

I put Wangxian, coffee, urban magic, fluff and slowburn into the melting pot and crossed my fingers - read at your own risk. I’ll be updating this story in shorts before revising and posting a full length version to A03 (somewhere in the distant improbable future).

Featuring confused pining over magic tea and magic sweets, cafe shenanigans and baker/patissiere(?) WWX and LWJ. 

Tranquility turned tea from pear-green to a deep sea foam. Lan Wangji felt this was appropriate - water was the most tranquil thing he knew. His uncle disagreed - as he often did - and had attempted to shift the colour back to its original green many times. That one was a failed experiment - it reduced the efficacy of tranquility and made the tea taste like grass.

“That’s not green tea,” Lan Qiren had scowled, pointing an accusatory finger at the perfect sea foam brew. “It isn’t traditional.”

Was magic traditional? Lan Wangji had been tempted to ask, but held his tongue. Using their energy to shape the natural order of things into something else - perhaps that betrayed tradition, or at least some law of nature. But magic ran as deep as blood, and the healing teas were so much more healing when they used magic, so sea foam it was.

They still called it green tea on their menu. It was very popular. 

Gusu had been a traditional Chinese tea house, once. Lan Qiren would have been quite content to keep it that way too, but even he couldn’t shout gentrification into going away. Gusu was dying. So he turned the shop over to his nephews with the vague hope that they could reassess its business model and bring in some customers. Then he went on a long vacation.

When he returned, Gusu was transformed. Literally. Its dark wood finishings were gone, replaced with snow-bright walls. The tea was unrecognisable. There was a dessert menu. And a bar counter. 

But there were also customers. So many, in fact, that Lan Qiren was forced to don his apron and help out not five minutes after walking through the door. Lan Wangji had never seen his uncle so disturbed as he’d been that day, trapped behind the counter while teenagers pointed their phones at his hands and cooed over the quaintness, the rarity, the sheer aesthetic - of hand brewed tea.

It wasn’t that Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji had betrayed their uncle and tradition. It was more accurate to say that they took his best ideals, put them in the proverbial blender and stood by silently to receive the scrambled results. 

Floor seating and low tables remained - but there was also a large communal table and benches, and of course, the dreaded bar counter with its stools. The tea menu was largely the same, just tweaked to look and taste better. Ice blended options were now available, to their uncle’s everlasting horror. And there were traditional desserts - almond soup, sesame balls, milk pastry, cakes - all arranged artfully and minimally on little porcelain plates.

And so Gusu was preserved, albeit not quite in the shape their uncle would have preferred. But four years on, the cafe continued thrive - building a solid reputation among locals and visitors. Lan Qiren had mostly adapted to the teenagers with their phones and the cakes by now, but he still eyed the green tea with deep suspicion.

Lan Wangji was doing the very same that morning, as he regarded Lan Jingyi’s practice brews. The teen had arranged the tiny glass cups from dark amber to pale yellow. Perhaps he thought he might get points for neatness.

“Again,” Lan Wangji said with finality, eyes sweeping down the line. “When you make clarity, the oolong should lighten to parchment.”

Jingyi wilted first at again and segued quickly into bafflement at parchment. 

“Parchment?” The boy repeated, unsure if he heard right. Lan Wangji paused to think it over, then nodded.

“Like paper white, tinted with yellow or tan. Parchment.”

Jingyi looked exasperated then, eyes wide and swivelling in their sockets to catch Lan Sizhui’s, who pretended not to see. Finding himself without allies in the kitchen, Jingyi’s shoulders slumped with defeat. “Yes, Hanguang-jun.”

Lan Wangji didn’t blame him. Clarity was difficult to make. Oolong got particularly stubborn when energy was channeled into it. If one had poor magic control, the colour could turn almost violently, from amber to walnut to black.

He left Jingyi to continue his oolong studies and approached Sizhui instead, who had finished divining the difference between parchment and white the day before, and so was allowed to move on to desserts. Lan Wangji approached from behind silently, but Sizhui’s hands remained steady as they attempted to transplant a sesame ball onto a spun sugar base. It wobbled unsteadily when he drew back.

“I’ll do it again,” Sizhui said before Lan Wangji could. “The base is too brittle. It must have been the temperature.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji approved. “Continue.”

The boys were young, only fifteen, but they were fast and eager to learn. Their progress came at no little effort however, if Jingyi’s growing army of oolong cups was any indication. But Lan Wangji was not worried. His uncle had handpicked them himself from some branch or other of their very, very extended family, and they were proving to be dedicated workers. It had been less than a month since they began training, but they would soon be ready to work the counter.

There was a loud rattling sound from Jingyi’s corner of the kitchen, a hastily bitten off curse, and then Sizhui was abandoning his station to fly over with a towel. Lan Wangji pointedly did not turn around to look. Perhaps not /too/ soon.

Jingyi’s cups were no closer to parchment by the time Lan Xichen poked his head in. “Wangji,” he called. “Would you check outside? The customers say there’s an obstruction near the entrance.”

“The deliveries?” The deliveryman occasionally left their parcels at the front, if he was busy.

“He would have called if he wasn’t coming in.” 

“I’ll check.”

It wasn’t a parcel. Lan Wangji spotted the problem the moment he stepped out - it was taking pains to make itself known, actually.

A little stickman was drawn onto the walkway in what looked like chalk. Someone had magicked it to life so that it danced about - harmless, but an annoyance regardless. It surged towards Lan Wangji’s foot, circling playfully and attempting to slide onto his shoe. If it succeeded, the chalk drawing would transfer to the leather.

Lan Wangji stepped briskly out of its path and tried to trace its spiritual source. It was strong, and he followed it easily out the gate. The little stickman raced to stay close, its arms waving about.

He was so preoccupied ensuring it didn’t touch him that he nearly tripped over the problem’s source. 

“Careful!” The man squatting on the pavement said, flinging an arm up in reflex. His hand was covered in chalk dust. Lan Wangji stepped back to look at him. Then he looked again. 

“You…” He had no words for what he was witnessing. The man was surrounded by chalk drawings that stretched all the way up the pavement, past the neighbouring lot. They were wriggling with life - little stick figures dancing, animals prowling, scribbled phrases vibrating - and food - so much of it, all moving.

It was a simple matter to implant spiritual energy in the drawings - small children could do it with enough practice. But that was precisely the problem, it was a trick for children, not adults.

“You’re blocking my sun, do you mind…?” The man said, not unkindly. He still hadn’t turned around, eyes focused on his next drawing. Lan Wangji did not move.

“This is vandalism,” he told him.

“It’s only chalk. It’ll wash away with the rain. Or a good sweep.” 

The man looked up then, and…Lan Wangji did not know what he was expecting - he had no preconceived notions. But he felt a flicker of surprise. The man’s mouth was curved like he was laughing, though no sound passed his lips. His smile was sun-bright. For a brief moment Lan Wangji allowed himself to notice the rest of him - his impish features, his haphazard ponytail, and the red ribbon that tamed it, just barely. 

He looked away.

“You’re obstructing our business,” he told the air in the middle distance. He sensed the man was staring at him but he kept his gaze averted. There was a small gasp, like the man realised something.

“Oh! You run the cafe?” Lan Wangji let the weighted silence speak for him, and the man continued to speak as if he’d received a proper reply. “I didn’t notice I was in front of your shop. I started drawing and I had so much inspiration that I forgot -“

“Please remove yourself and the drawings. You are inconveniencing the customers.”

The man pouted. “I want to save the drawings first…but I don’t have paper. That’s why I’m drawing out here. You see, I had this amazing idea for a triple tier reverse lava cupcake and I needed to sketch it out before the idea got away from me but all I had was this chalk in my pocket so -“

Lan Wangji was quite finished listening to him somewhere around paper. He said sternly, “If I give you paper will you stop?”

“And a pencil too, please!” The man said shamelessly, as if it was perfectly normal to make demands of strangers that he was inconveniencing.

Lan Wangji unfolded his wallet, and ran his fingers through it briefly. He kept some useful things inside - stationery, a first-aid kit, a spare apron - and his notebook. It was twice the size of his wallet and the man hummed with interest when he extricated it.

“Handy trick,” he commented, eyes twinkling. 

Ignoring him, Lan Wangji carefully tore three pieces of paper from the spine. Then he glanced at the chalk drawings and tore another piece. The man was gleeful as he accepted them.

“I drew a lot, didn’t I,” He sounded pleased with himself. “Thank you.”

“Hm.”

He stood aside while the man lay the paper sheets on the ground, spreading them neatly. Then he wriggled his fingers and whistled once, sharp. The doodles froze where they were, some in the midst of sneaking onto the street. When the man tapped the paper with his finger they began to slide along the pavement very quickly, shrinking as they went, until they were paper drawings. Lan Wangji was surprised by the sheer number of doodles of cake, sweets and desserts - each one elaborately drawn and unusual. 

Unbelievably, there was a reverse three-tiered cupcake - just like the man had described. A long string of untidy handwriting accompanied it, jostling the cupcake as they both slid onto the last empty spot. Then it was over, and the pavement was clean once more.

Almost.

“You forgot one.” The little chalk man was still trying to climb his foot despite the slight energy field Lan Wangji had put up to rebuff it. It hopped around the toe of his shoe, waving indignantly.

“Hm...” the man crooked a finger at it, and when that didn’t work, he whistled sharply. The little chalk man appeared to toss its head rebelliously at his efforts, marching away until it was behind Lan Wangji’s shoe. 

The man only laughed, “You should keep him, I think he likes you.” Then he winked and turned away, his ribbons flying as he did. Like they were taunting him.

“You...!”

“Take good care of him,” the man called back, already walking away. 

[eat-up-buttercup]

Some classic sensual girl feeding guy leading to a REALLY intense feeding session?

This may have got away from me. Also, it sort of stayed very PG-13, which is rare. 

Summer Bliss

I sit on the couch, my arm draped across his belly, my head on his chest. It’s warm out, but with the fans on, I like to flatter myself that he could do with the cuddling. His belly rises and falls as he makes his way through the last plate of food. Nothing to decadent – in this case it was a Caesar salad, but there was just so damn much of it. I managed to put away about half a bowl, and I’m no small eater. He’s managed three. In the winter it would have been rich and creamy soups, or roast meat, but in the sticky summer sun, both of us like to eat light, if in his case, still eat lots.

He looks so absolutely delicious, propped up on the couch. From this angle, the bit that fascinates me the most is the curve of his chest and chin, a slight hitch at the collarbone but pretty much seamlessly blending into one now. The pout of his lips. The underside of his eyelashes. His hefty arm wrapped around my shoulder. All feel like home.

“What’s next?”

I’m startled out of my thoughts (though from the look on his face, it’s pretty clear he knew what they were). “More?” I ask, somewhat startled. I mean, it’s hot as sin and surely he’s pretty full up by now? The stretch of his belly and its firmness under my touch seem to agree. “You seem pretty full?”

“Yes…” he starts to blush, and I melt. I know him in this mood, and I love it. While the responsibility of quantity will now fall to me, I also have the joy of pushing him as far as he thinks he can go, and then just that little bit further. I stand, and make my way to the kitchen.

Mid summer means we are full up to the brim with ripe fruit, and the freezer is making that strange ticking noise again that makes me think it’s about to go on the blink. Again. The industrial blender is on the counter, and I can feel a plan come together. Three pints of ice cream. One large watermelon, cubed. Some double cream (because it’s there and I can’t resist). Blender on, blender off. Funnel out.

I walk into the living room and see that he’s not moved since I left him. His hand is lightly slapping the edge of his gut, and despite its fullness, I can still see a wobble where the after effects of these binges are taking their toll. Looking at him gives me such pleasure the fulfilment of our fantasies has had such an effect on him – not just the physical changes, but the relaxation of his shoulders and the sparkle in his eye. He is someone who’s been designed to be pampered and cared for, to have the responsibilities lifted from his shoulders for a while.

His eyes widen as he sees the five-pint jug and the funnel.

“How much do you think you can take, sweetheart?” The moment sits on a knife edge. He’ll either demure, in which case the bulk will go back into the fridge, or bravado will get the upper hand.

His eyes gleam. “All of it.”

My knees go weak. “Sitting?”

“Sure, why not”

Well, because of the extra space you’d get while standing, I think. But sure, if he wants to do this the hard way.

In the normal way of things, I’d sit astride him and pour the liquid gently down the funnel. However today, as well as the couch being slick and hot under my knees, the sheer volume of his belly means I’d be in danger of falling backwards and loosing control. I kneel to one side, keeping my breasts firmly within grabbing range. He does quite like to play with them when he’s being funnel fed.

“Safeword?”

He raises his left hand in a fist. Easy enough to do, and no way I would mistake him reaching to touch me or himself for that gesture.

“Shall we?” I let him take a look into the jug, noting both his eyes going wide, his pupils dilating, and his breath start to increase. I am pretty sure that something is stirring under that sumptuous belly of his.

I raise the funnel up, then the jug, and start to pour. I can see him rounding out under my care. I can see the bliss as his eyes shut and he tries not to moan around the tube. I can see that at this moment, in this place, everything is quite absolutely perfect. Bliss.

[timmyteehill]

First Night || Tee & Kami

DISCORD THREAD FEATURING: Tee and @kamidesai

MENTIONS: none (I think)

WHEN: August 23rd

DESCRIPTION: Kami and Tee move into their new apartment.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: smut!

Kami

Kam tripped over a box on his way to the kitchen, because of course that was the first place he wanted to unpack as soon as all their shit was inside. He still couldn’t believe they’d done this - they were living together again, and in the most amazing apartment. Of course he’d envisioned this for them years ago, but there had been so long that Kam never thought he’d even talk to Tee again, let alone be in the same living space. It made him smile to himself, even over a stubbed toe as he began opening up boxes, and getting all of their kitchen supplies put away, and in order.

Tee

Tee was looking over all the boxes and trying not to get too overwhelmed. It was going to take them forever to get everything unpacked but even that wasn’t enough to ruin his good mood. They were living together again. Sometimes Tee still found it hard to believe, especially since there was a point in their lives were he wasn’t even answering Kami’s texts. And yet here they were. He walked further into their apartment and wasn’t surprised at all to find his boyfriend unpacking the kitchen boxes. He watched him go around putting everything in place, already knowing that he wasn’t even going to be using half of the stuff. “Someone’s looking a little busy”, he said, finally walking in and making himself known. “I have no idea what you’re holding right now but it looks dangerous.”

Kami

Kam snorted when Tee made a comment about what he was holding, deciding to point the item at the other male with a small smirk. “It’s an immersion blender.” He informed his boyfriend, and then gently tucked it away in a drawer he deemed appropriate for small appliances. “It’s what I use for soups, and mashed potatoes. Ya just stick it down in the pot, and it blends away.” He shook his head with a smile, clearly reveling in how amazing such an invention was. “I wanted to get the kitchen unpacked first so I can cook for us tonight.”

Tee

Tee nodded, pretending to know exactly what it was. “An immersion blender, sure. I knew that.” He was pretty sure he’d never seen one in his life and it’s definitely not something he ever had at his previous apartment. “Sounds...useful.” Considering he’d never made soup or mashed potatoes in his life, it wasn’t a surprise that he had no idea what it was. Getting the chance to eat a home cooked meal so often was going to be weird but Tee definitely wasn’t complaining. “Yeah I’ve been looking forward to that personalized chicken curry you promised me all day”, he said, leaning against one of the counters. “Although we should probably unpack the bedroom as well, or at least the bedsheets. We need somewhere to sleep tonight.”

Kami

Kam smirked when Tee said he was looking forward to dinner, which made Kami so damn happy. He loved feeding people, and seeing them react to his food. This was his passion. Kam loved tattooing, it was definitely one of his favorite things he’d ever done, and he was amazing at it. There was passion there as well, big time, but he’d never shake that cooking was what he was meant to do. “Yeah, we’ll do that next. OR you can do that while I do the kitchen.” Kam suggested with a little wiggle of his brows. “Or would you miss me too much?” He teased.

Tee

Tee knew how much Kami liked to cook and that it was something he'd always wanted to do. Maybe it could have even been something he was doing if it wasn't for his parents. The last time he tried to bring it up didn't go so well and the last thing he wanted was to ruin the happy vibe from moving in together. So, for now, he'll just enjoy having a boyfriend who cooked for him and maybe, eventually, he could bring it up again with better results. "You know I can't bear to spend a second away from you honey", he said, heavy on the sarcasm. Although it wasn't a complete lie. It was still so surreal to him that they were both here in their apartment that he didn't feel like going off to do his own thing just yet. "Need some help with the kitchen?"

Kami

Kam laughed when Tee joked about not being able to bear even a second away from him. He knew that was bullshit, but it made him laugh anyway. “We could work faster if we split up. Besides, this won’t take me too long. Just tackle some of the bedroom, and I’ll get started on dinner as soon as I can. I need to start cooking, getting those flavors workin’!” He did a little happy dance. If you could call it that. Not sure what else it could be called, he just looked ridiculous, but adorably excited.

Tee

Tee knew he couldn’t argue with that so he gave him a quick kiss and left him to get the kitchen sorted while he worked on the bedroom. He was under no impressions that he’d have the whole bedroom ini she’d by the time dinner was ready but at least he could get the sheets sorted so they would have a bed to spend their first night on. It took him a while to find the correct box but, when he did, he made quick work of putting the sheets on the bed. He couldn’t hold back a laugh at seeing the drawings of eyelashes on the pillowcases. He added the fairy lights on the headboard and bottom of the bed, lamps on the bedside tables and figured that would be enough for now. “Come look at this”, he called out, hoping Kami would hear him over the sound of the cooker hood. “Pretty nice right?”

Kami

Kam had been in the zone before Tee called for him. He was getting everything sorted, and organized, which he somehow did in record breaking time. He might’ve missed a box or two for now, but he had everything he needed for dinner, so he needed to get started. Curry took some time when it came to building flavors, and he didn’t want to skimp. He wiped his hands on a towel before heading back to the bedroom, smiling wide when he noticed how Tee had everything situated. “I love it.” He laughed, and then walked over to grab one of the eyelash pillows. “These are ridiculous.”

Tee

"There's still a lot to be sorted but I figured this should be enough to get us through the first night." They still needed to unpack the clothing boxes and figure out how to divide the closet and cupboards between them but they could do that another day. As long as they had somewhere to sleep during the night, Tee felt quite accomplished. He laughed and nodded in agreement when he saw Kami pick up the pillows. He wasn't wrong, those eyelashes looked hilarious. "They are but I think they fit us quite well, don't you?"

Kami

Kam tilted his head to look at the pillows from another angle, like that was going to tell him whether or not those pillows were just like them. “Sure. I’m gonna enjoy laying with you on them more though.” He smirked, and then grabbed Tee’s hand to pull him down on the bed with him, wrapping his limbs around the other male like a damn octopus. “God, this is so much better than my shitty apartment.”

Tee

Tee gasped as he was pulled down on the bed and hit Kam's arm playfully. "You're an idiot", he said, although anyone from miles away could probably hear how fond he actually was. "It is...no offence." Kami's apartment had a certain charm to it but they both knew most of their time used to be spent at his apartment, especially once the bath stopped working properly. Even if they hadn't decorated and chosen everything in this apartment themselves, the size of it would have more than made up for it. He turned his head to the side and caught Kam's lips with his own.

Kami

Kam smirked to himself when his boyfriend said he was an idiot, cause of course he would respond that way to being called an idiot. He would be offended by both that, and the agreement about his apartment, but he knew it was the truth. None of that mattered though when Tee’s lips were on his own, and their lips began to so easily slide together. His hand lifted up to cup the back of his boyfriend’s neck, keeping him in place while he licked into his mouth.

Tee

It was all so surreal spending time together like this, in their bed. They had a home together, fish children included and Tee never in a million years could have thought that he could be so happy. He kissed him back, moving a hand down his boyfriend's back before pulling back. "You're not cooking anything right now, are you? I don't feel like burning down our brand new kitchen on our first night here."

Kami

Kam watched his boyfriend pull back with a disgruntled face, thinking he better have a good excuse for stopping his kissies. He smiled when he asked about the food, being all adorable in checking if he was done or not. “Everything’s in the slow cooker. No worries.” He advised his boyfriend to settle his mind, and then grabbed the collar of his shirt to pull his lips back down for more kissing, both of his hands now raking through Tee’s hair.

Tee

Fear of burning the place down taken care of, Tee relaxed and allowed himself to enjoy the moment. He kissed Kami back and groaned at the feeling of hands going through his hair. “Does that mean we have enough time to christen the bed?”

Kami

Kami broke out into a smile when his boyfriend asked if that meant they had enough time to christen the bed. “That’s exactly what it means.” Kam rolled over to push Tee on his back, mounting him way too easily as he licked into his mouth, tasting him, and groaning against his lips. He grabbed the other’s hands, and then pinned them above his head while he pressed his erection against Tee’s clothed crotch.

Tee

It didn’t take much to get him on his back and he groaned at the feeling of his boyfriend on top of him, erection pressed against his own. He bit his lip when Kam grabbed his hands and pinned them above his head because it always got to him and the other clearly knew that. There was just something, almost like a certain loss of power that never failed to get to his head. Lifting his hips was hard with Kami sitting on top of him but he tried his best to thrust his bulge against the other’s.

Kami

Kam smirked as he leaned down to attach his lips to the other male’s neck, sucking softly - for now, as he ground his hips downward with a hum. They were both SO in the mood, and how couldn’t they be? Life seemed to be looking up for them right now - new amazing apartment that they could share together, dinner slow cooking in their amazing kitchen. They were happy. That was scary. “I want you.” Kam murmured against his boyfriend’s skin before nipping it, and thrusting forward.

Tee

Tee leaned his head to the side to give him more access, biting down on his lip to hold back another moan. There was still so much to do and unpack before they could truly say this place was theirs but they were getting there and that was enough for him. Now all he wanted to do was to have a good time with his boyfriend in their bed. Tee was never going to get tired of that. “Kam”, he gasped, trying to thrust back. “You can have me. I want you to.”

Kami

Kam liked getting Tee worked up to the point he was slightly begging, and begging submissive. He was so alpha type outside of the bedroom, getting to see this side of him was really something special. “Yeah?” He asked while pulling back so that he could scramble to get his shirt off. “You want me to fuck you, Tee?” Kam looked down at his boyfriend with dark eyes, hands already itching to go digging for the lube. Fuck, he hoped Tee already got it out, or it was at least easy to find.

Tee

Few people got to see Tee like this. He enjoyed handing the reigns over to his partner in bed but he only did it when he really trusted the other person and felt comfortable with them. Kami was one of the few who got him like this and Tee always felt safe in the knowledge that his boyfriend wouldn’t use it against him. As soon as Kam let go of his arms to take his shirt off, he took the opportunity to move his hands up the other’s back, getting a good feel. “Yeah, I want you to fuck me...come on Kam”, he moaned, pulling him in for an intense kiss. It’s a good thing Tee had an inkling to what they’d end up doing and thought of keeping a bottle of live close by. “Bedside table, I put everything there.” Including their box of stuff. No one was going to be looking in their apartment from them anyways.

Kami

Kami looked like he’d just won a prize when Tee let him know where the lube was, which he promptly moved to grab, and throw on the bed beside them for when he’d need it. “Okay, gotta get rid of these.” He worked quickly to shuck off his boyfriend’s clothes, tossing them in the floor with his own like he could care less where they landed. All he wanted to focus on now was getting the lube snicked open so he could slowly begin opening up his lover. “Okay, relax.” He let out a soft breath, and began to slip a finger inside Tee’s tight heat.

Tee

Tee watched as his boyfriend got what whey needed, looking on in badly concealed eagerness as he finally found the bottle of lube. It didn’t take long at all to get him naked, barely even giving a thought to where Kam was throwing his clothes in his rush. As soon as he saw him get the lube open, Tee spread his legs wider, watching with satisfaction as Kami fit in perfectly. He was about to say something about it when he felt the first push of a finger and he threw his head back against the pillow, closing his eyes. “Ah fuck, just like that.” It didn’t take long for him to get used to the intrusion and pretty soon he was whining and urging his boyfriend to give him more.

Kami

Kam really enjoyed seeing his boyfriend like this, all needy, and wanting for more. He was beautiful, and sexy, and everything that could possibly mean the world. When Tee started whining out for more, a smirk appeared on the tattoo artist’s face, deciding to slowly slip in another finger while he leaned in to kiss along the inside of his boyfriend’s thigh, and opened him up slowly.

Tee

Tee was glad that his boyfriend didn’t make him wait too long until he was slipping in another finger. He considered himself pretty lucky that they got to do this pretty often and yet, it never got old. This being their first time in their new home only made it more special. He ran his fingers through Kami’s hair, pulling it every time his fingers hit the right spot.

Kami

God, there really wasn’t much else Kam loved more than when Tee would pull his hair. It was just really really good. He added another finger, hooking the digits to chase his boyfriend’s prostate, rubbing, and massaging the sensitive area while he grazed his teeth over the skin of his lover’s throat. Kam was throbbing, so he wasn’t gonna he able to hold out much longer, but he had a feeling Tee might feel the same.

Tee

Tee knew the other enough to know how much he loved it when he tugged at his hair and always made sure to do it in order to really drive Kam crazy. It’s one of the reasons why he was so against his boyfriend cutting his hair short. It was getting harder and harder not to move when his prostate was getting hit just right and his constant stream of moans were more than enough to let his boyfriend know he was appreciating everything. But if he kept going like this, Tee wasn’t going to last much longer. “Are you going to fuck me or not?” Well, he’s been pretty well behaved so far so he was bound to get bitchy at some point. It wouldn’t be him if he didn’t.

Kami

Kam knew he’d pushed his boyfriend to his limit, expecting the bossy comment when it came out of his mouth. Kami simply smiled, and then smashed his lips to the other’s as he retracted his fingers. After lubing, and lining up, he finally moved his hips forward, thrusting himself balls deep inside his boyfriend without another wasted second.

Tee

Tee knew what was coming when Kam smashed their mouths together in a kiss and he grabbed onto his boyfriend’s back to ground himself. Tee threw his head back with a loud moan when he finally got what he wanted, pleasure making him drag his blunt nails down his boyfriend’s back. That was definitely going to leave a mark but he couldn’t bring himself to care right now. “Fuck, Kam!”

Kami

Kam made a growling sound in the back of his throat when Tee dug his nails into his skin, something that was painful, but also satisfying. That made no sense, but it was kind of like the thrill of getting a tattoo, and lord knows he enjoyed that. “Yeah baby.” He groaned against his boyfriend’s lips, and then took Tee’s bottom lip between his teeth, barring down as he began to snap his hips harder, and faster into the other male.

Tee

Tee clamped his eyes shut, the sensation of Kami thrusting into him overwhelming. He feels so full like there isn't an inch inside of him that isn't currently being taken up by his boyfriend. He loves this feeling though, always has. It's intense and yet not enough all at the same time.  Tee moved his hands down Kami's back and to his hips, pulling the other towards him while pushing up to get him to move faster. Slowly, Tee opened his eyes and got to see first hand the way Kam was looking at him with such affection. God, he loves this man.

Kami

those eyes. Kami had really fallen for Tee the second he saw his eyes. There was something about him, and the way that he looked at Kam that made him feel like melted butter. They were meant to be together, and he really couldn’t think of anything else he’d been mort sure of. “I love you.” He breathed out, keeping up his movements as he dropped down to place open mouthed kisses on the other’s chest.

Tee

It seemed like no matter how intense they were being, they still managed to keep it sweet on some level. Tee stroked his thumb against Kami’s cheek, giving him a kiss before the other moved down to kiss over his chest. “I love you too, so much.” It was rare moments like these that Tee allowed himself to be vulnerable and he appreciated that his boyfriend made him feel comfortable enough to do so. Throughout their little exchange, Kami never slowed down and Tee was loving the feeling of him being torn apart. “Kam”, he moaned. “I’m not going to last.”

Kami

Kam pulled back when he heard his boyfriend say his name, followed by a warning that he wasn’t gonna last which haha - that was an ego boost. He loved that he could fuck his boy into barely being able to contain himself. Kam would never say that outloud though, Tee would get sassy. “Me too, baby.” He breathed out, his eyes landing on his favorite pair below him, his hips snapping forward, and hitting Tee’s prostate with renewed vigor.

Tee

With the way Kami was hitting his prostate with every thrust, he knew it wasn’t going to take long for him to reach his high. He was just so close. So he moved his hand to wrap it around his own cock and gave a few strokes, moaning with every move. Tee wanted it to be pleasurable for his boyfriend as well though so he tried to tighten up as much as possible.

Kami

Kam knocked his boyfriend’s hand away from his cock as soon as he touched it, wanting to be able to give him an orgasm all on his own. Tee was stubborn, but in bed, Kam could be even more hard headed. Get it? “Cum for me, Tee.” He moaned, balancing with one hand beside his lover as he worked both his fingers, and his hips to make sure his boyfriend was feeling as much pleasure as he could physically provide.

Tee

Tee whined when his hands was pushed away but he quickly shut up when Kami just replaced it with his own. Now that’s what he was talking about. He barely even needed a single command from his boyfriend before he was throwing his head back with a loud moan, grabbing onto Kami’s back so hard that he was sure to leave bruises. “Kam!” he screamed in pleasure.

Kami

Tee unraveling like that did Kami in every. Damn. Time. The second he was grabbing onto his back like that, Kam was jackhammering into the other male at an impressive speed, the sound of their skin slapping flooding the room along with the string of insanely dirty moans that left when Kam instantly filled Tee up. His hot cum was overflowing onto their newly laid sheets, oops, and he couldn’t even be bothered to care, because FUCK if that wasn’t an amazing way to break in their new place. “Ho. Lee. Shit.” He expressed as soon as he was on his back next to his boyfriend, chest rising and falling with labored breaths.

Tee

They were definitely going to have to change their sheets after this weren’t they? Well at least they had a good first run...sort of. Tee wrapped his legs around his boyfriend’s waist, holding on for the ride while the other was thrusting into him rapidly to get himself off. “Fuck me”, he gasped out as soon as Kami rolled over next to him. What a way to get settled into their new bedroom. He took a moment to get his breathing back under control, feeling like he ran a marathon or something. Ha, like that was ever going to happen. “That was...wow.”

Kami

Kam managed to lull his head to the side to smirk lazily at his boyfriend, giggling like a fucking idiot because yeah, that WAS wow. “I love you.” He muttered, looking over the boy next to him, and feeling like his heart might actually swell out of his chest. Tee was everything....just...everything he never thought he’d be able to have. He only wished his family could accept him, and know the love of his life, experience with them. It was truly their loss.

Tee

Not everyone could understand their relationship because they were so different and yet...Tee didn’t know anyone who loved him like Kami did, with all his flaws. And even though their first time together ended in disaster it was clear they were both trying so hard to make it work this time. They wouldn’t have even attempted living together again if they weren’t. So Tee laid his arm on Kami’s chest and cuddled closer even though they were both a sweaty mess. “Love you too”, he mumbled before kissing him on the cheek. “After that I’m craving the curry even more.”

Kami

Kam chuckled when Tee said he was craving the curry even more, smirking at him as he reached to take hold of his bicep with a squeeze. There really was nothing better anyone could say to him than that they were looking forward to his cooking. “And by curry, do you mean the food?” He joked, laughing at himself soon after, because he was quite frankly, an idiot. “Ready to eat then? I’ll throw the sheets in the washer.”

Tee

“You’re an idiot”, he rolled his eyes. But he was his idiot and just the thought of that brought a smile to Tee’s face. He felt like he could barely move but the promise of food was enough to get him to sit up in bed with a groan. “Yeah, I could eat. I can take care of the sheets while you get the rest done if you want.” If he tried touching any of the food he was scared of what would happen. He leaned in for one last quick kiss then went to the bathroom to clean himself up. “Meet you in the kitchen!”

[tenroseforeverandever]

The Perfect Blend Chapter 2

Characters: Tenth Doctor (aka James Noble); Rose Tyler; Clara Oswald; Amy Pond; Jeanne Poisson; Donna Noble; Sylvia Noble; Wilfred Mott

Tags: Human AU; fake relationship AU; coffee shop AU; stalkerish!Reinette; hurt/comfort; angst; romance; fluff; Christmas; New Year; New Year’s kiss

Story Summary:

Trying to escape from an predatory ex-girlfriend who will not accept their break-up, James Noble (aka The Doctor) finds himself in a coffee shop where he meets a barista (aka Rose Tyler) who makes him the perfect cup of tea and lends a sympathetic ear to his tale of woe.

Chapter Summary: James successfully manages to avoid Jeanne in the days leading up to Christmas, but when he arrives at his family’s home for Christmas dinner, as surprise awaits him.

Chapter Notes: My love for my betas knows no bounds. @rose--nebula and mrsbertucci, thank you so much for taking time out of your busy holiday schedule to help me make this chapter better.

In addition, this chapter needed a wee bit of help from my fantastic French-speaking Fangirls… just to make things sound more natural: @melusine0811 kindly read over this story and gave me some brilliant suggestions; and @elialys also gave me some advice through the grapevine. Merci, mes chéries!

Finally, many thanks to a bunch of the Fangirls for brainstorming with me! I am surrounded by brilliant women!

Read also at: AO3; Tsp; FF

CHAPTER 2

James was unreasonably proud of himself. Somehow over the last few days, he had managed to avoid Jeanne almost completely. Weeell, after all, he was a genius and one of the hallmarks of a genius was being able to think outside the proverbial box. In order to avoid run-ins with his rapacious ex-girlfriend, he had determined he simply needed to be outside his box.

In short, he needed to be where he was least expected to be.

James Noble had gone Christmas shopping.

As much as he hated navigating the throngs of humanity and the capitalist over-commercialization that was an unfortunate feature of the Christmas season in the 21st Century, shopping not only hid him from Jeanne Poisson, but it meant that his family would actually receive proper gifts from him this year, and not just ‘gifts-in-kind’.

Aunt Sylvia had not been impressed with his in-kind gift of the previous year, improvements to her old blender. Although to be honest, he couldn’t really blame her. It had leaped off the counter, spewing her (disgusting) pea soup everywhere and nearly taking Donna’s toes off when the blades, in a bid for freedom, had rushed across the kitchen floor and torn through her slippers. This year, Aunt Sylvia would receive a brand new, state-of-the-art blender (completely unimproved by him), and Donna was getting a new pair of steel-toed slippers (extensively improved by him) as an extra precaution against rogue blenders, and with the added benefit of protecting his cousin from stubbing her toes.

Gramps was the only one in the family who truly appreciated James’ attempts at tinkering, but this year, instead of making him a cobbled-together gadget, James had bought him an ultra-high-tech, backyard telescope. No tinkering required. His old spyglass had taken a beating over the years, and while James had (mostly) managed to repair (and enhance) it multiple times, there was no doubt it needed replacing. James saw it as his familial duty to provide the dear old man with a means to escape the constant harping from his daughter and get lost among the stars whenever he needed to.

On James’ first day of hiding, after responding tersely to a text message from Jeanne, hoping she would finally cotton-on to the idea that he was no longer interested in pursuing any sort of relationship with her, he had gone into tech-silent mode, keeping his phone turned off, and only occasionally responding to emails from his Grandad and Donna.

Despite trying hard to stay hidden in plain sight, James had still managed to find time to return to his usual habitat, working in his lab (improving Donna’s slippers, among other things,) but he had always slunk in by the service hallways, after hours, and made very sure that no one had seen him coming or going. He even slept on the sofa in his office at the back of the lab to avoid detection.

All in all, he had had a rather productive few days.  

He had only two regrets: one, that he hadn’t had the guts to confront Jeanne in person; and, two, that he had also been too cowardly to return to Pete’s Coffee Dimension, even though there had been plenty of times over the days of his seclusion that a good cuppa (and a smile from the pretty barista) would have gone down a treat.  

That was him, though: a coward every time.

His mind had been drawn to the girl from the coffee shop more times than he would like to admit. But despite the lovely blonde barista’s friendly demeanor, he was quite certain she would never want to see him again, after the way he had practically vomited his tale of woe at her. He was frankly embarrassed by the entire event, despite how much better he’d felt having had someone to share his frustrations with. It had not been the best first impression, all told. She must have thought he was nothing short of a spineless catastrophe.

She wouldn’t have been wrong.

Not that it mattered. He was not interested in getting involved with any girl at the moment, no matter how kind and smart and lovely she was. He was still reeling from his experiences with Jeanne, and he’d be doing the barista a favour by not getting to know her any better. With his emotions running high at the time, he hadn’t even bothered to find out her name. Clearly, he was utterly useless at initiating (never mind maintaining) a healthy, romantic relationship with any woman.

And yet, he couldn’t stop thinking about her: how easy she was to talk to; how her bright, brown eyes had gazed at him with compassion and understanding; and in that brief moment, when she had covered his hand with hers, he’d felt as though her soul had touched his.

But then she’d withdrawn her hand, and there’d been a moment of emptiness and awkwardness before he’d resumed telling her about his early infatuation with Jeanne. But she’d still listened to him and it seemed she’d understood him in a way no one else had ever been able to.

… It felt like she could read into my soul and see how lonely I was… The memory of the words he had spoken to her about Jeanne’s effect on him flared in his mind.

He bolted upright from his place on the lab office sofa, mental alarms thrashing against the inside of his skull. It was all so frighteningly familiar, the draw he had to the barista. He couldn’t allow himself to be sucked into another toxic, infatuation-driven relationship. No, he would stay away from Pete’s Coffee Dimension and the pretty barista at all costs.

He dragged a hand through his hair and glanced at the clock on the wall. Eleven o’clock in the morning. December 25th. He hauled himself off the sofa. He needed to get back to his flat for a proper shower and some fresh clothes before heading over to his family for Christmas tea.

 A few hours later, he was staggering up the front walk of his family home under the weight of several brightly wrapped parcels and a pretty Christmas bouquet he had picked up for Aunt Sylvia. He was under no illusion that she would be furious at him for his unnotified disappearance over the last few days and would be hell-bent on making his life miserable while he was trapped under her roof. He understood it was just her rather unique way of showing how much she cared but he still hoped the flowers (and the new blender) would help to blunt her sharp tongue a little.

The front door flew open just as he was juggling his packages so he could reach the doorbell. “Oh, you owe me big time, Space-dunce,” Donna snapped, standing before him, red hair crackling around her face, hands on her hips. “I’ve had to entertain that psychopath all day.”

“Happy Christmas to you too, Donna.” He offered his cousin a bemused, sarcastic smile as he tried to sort out what she’d meant by her strange declaration.

Aunt Sylvia’s severe face appeared in the doorway from behind Donna’s left shoulder. “Oh, he’s bothered to show up, has he? After days of us not knowing where he was, bearing actual gifts, no less. No doubt they’ll all kill us in our sleep.”

“Oi!” James shifted his weight to balance the pile of gifts more effectively, “they will not kill you or even maim you. And I’m sorry about my radio silence, but I was trying to avoid–”

“Mon cheri! James! T’es arrivé!”

“–Jeanne…” He blinked in disbelief at the face that appeared over Donna’s other shoulder. (Presumably Donna’s aforementioned psychopath.)

“Oh, and you brought to me des fleurs,” she exclaimed, pushing past Donna and plucking the bouquet off the top of his pile. “They are magnifique! Merci!”

“Wait! No! Urrrrghh…”

 “Oh, they are lovely!” Sylvia remarked. “It would be nice if someone brought me flowers once in a while…” She shot James a pointed look.

“But… I… urrrrghh…”

“Oh, I have missed you so much, James!” Jeanne leaned over the top of the gifts and planted her mouth over James’ in an impassioned kiss. He recoiled and sputtered as she finally broke away, desperate to wipe the taste of her from his lips.

“How about we let him come in?” Sylvia suggested. “Come dear,” she led Jeanne away, “let’s put these flowers in some water, shall we? James, hurry up, then!”

Jeanne tossed James a coy smile over her shoulder as she disappeared into the house with Sylvia, her eyes smoldering. “See you soon, mon cheri. I cannot wait to get my hands on you properly…”

Donna fixed him with a rather frightening gleam in her eye, then leaned toward him, jostling the packages in his arms, nearly causing him to drop them. As she wiped Jeanne’s lipstick from the side of his mouth with her thumb, she whispered in his ear, “Great. Outer space. Dunce.”

“But…”

“Oh, just get in here,” she hissed, “you bloody idiot! Gramps is waiting for you!”

“I am trying, but someone seems to be blocking my way.” He made a show of shoving past her, down the hallway and into the lounge. “You gonna help me, or what?” he called back to her.

“There he is! There’s our boy!” Gramps stood up from his armchair next to the fireplace, arms outstretched, to greet James. He was wearing two mismatched sets of reindeer antler headbands.

“Thought you’d be happy, Dad, now that he’s here,” Sylvia snarked, coming into the room from the kitchen with a vase full of flowers and Jeanne in tow.

“Too right, I am!”

“James, you should have heard him moaning, wondering when you’d turn up.” She rolled her eyes and glanced over at her father, who was helping divest James of some of his parcels. She huffed, “And, Dad, would you take those bloody things off your head?”

“No, I shan’t! It’s Christmas.”

“And maybe put on some nicer clothes. Honestly! We have company; you’d think you could dress up a bit.”

James opened his mouth, ready to leap to his Grandad’s defense, but the old man beat him to it. He straightened up from where he was stuffing one of James’ gifts under the tree and fixed his gaze on Sylvia. “Well, this is my house, young lady, and the company,” he nodded toward Jeanne, “will have to be content with me dressed as I am. It’s Christmas and I’m comfortable. So there!”

James glanced at Jeanne who was observing Gramps with a critical eye. “Oui,” she conceded in her typical condescending tone, “it is your home, I suppose. Of course, you can wear what you like.”

James glared at her as she pursed her lips in distaste and felt his heart wrench when he saw the hurt on his dear Gramps’ face at her contempt. “Quite right too!” James declared, smiling fondly at Gramps as the older man took another armload of gifts from him. He was wearing his traditional Christmas berry-red cardigan over a checked, red and green shirt, and his usual brown trousers. The outfit was a bit shabby, but familiar and comfortable, a Christmas day staple.

“Oh, I should say,” Donna piped up, entering the room and taking the last of the gifts from James. “Christmas is supposed to be about family and giving and tradition, yeah, and anyone who thinks otherwise can stuff it.”

Jeanne gasped and uttered a French oath under her breath, and Sylvia barked, “Donna Noble!”

Gramps mollified Donna, “Oh, sweetheart, that’s enough. Nothing to get fussed about. Everyone is entitled to their opinion.”

“Their wrong opinion…” Donna grumbled just loud enough for James to hear.

“Let’s all just try to get along, yeah. How about we open some pressies and open a bottle of Christmas cheer?”

James took the opportunity to pull a Santa hat from the deep pockets of his coat. He arranged it on his head with a broad (if forced) grin. “Sounds perfect! I’ll be Santa, then, shall I?”

He looked pointedly at Donna, who grudgingly got the message. “And I’ll be barkeep!”

“Try not to poison Aunt Sylvia or Jeanne, hmmm?” James muttered privately to her.

“Oh, I’ll let Mum live… this year. That French bint, though… no guarantees. And let’s face it, it would solve any number of problems.”

James choked back a chuckle and situated himself on the floor by the unusually posh-looking Christmas tree.

“A fine plan,” Jeanne sniffed as she promenaded toward the sofa. There she stopped and swept off one of the seats with a disdainful hand, before perching herself coquettishly on the edge.

James had to bite his tongue to keep himself from scolding the blonde upstart and a low rumble emanated from Donna.

“James, come ‘ere and sit with me,” Jeanne demanded, patting the cushion beside her. “I’ve been so lonely without you by my side, and it’s unseemly to sit on the floor like that.”

“No thanks,” he replied with a forced smile, “I’m fine right where I am.”

“You are playing (… ‘ow you say?) ‘ard-to-get, comme d’hab. T’es filou!” she simpered, making James feel as though he might vomit. He had just opened his mouth to contradict her, when she spoke again in an imperious tone to Donna. “And I will have a Kir Royale.”

Donna’s eyes narrowed, shooting daggers at Jeanne. “Oh, I’ll just go fetch the champagne and Cassis, then, shall I?” Sarcasm dripped from her words. “It should be right next to the caviar and quails’ eggs. Try again, Blondie.”

“I’ll have a martini, Donna,” Sylvia quickly interjected, her gaze darting between the two fiery young women. “You know how I like it.”

“Oh, I suppose, if you do not ‘ave the Cassis, a martini could be refreshing,” Jeanne conceded. “Very dry. Shaken, not stirred, with two small olives, exactement. And don’t use one of those ‘orrible wooden picks. They change the flavour of the drink. Plastic only for me.”

“I’ll give you a wooden pick, right through the heart,” James heard Donna mumble as she turned to the sideboard to mix the drinks, and he stifled another laugh. “Gramps, a scotch, neat, for you?”

“Right you are, my darling!”

“What about you, Spaceman?”

“I’ll just grab a beer from the fridge,” he said, jumping up and moving to the kitchen. “Want one?”

“Yeah, please.”

As he cracked the two bottles open, he asked, “Glass?”

“Nah, the bottle’s fine, ta!” Donna’s response elicited a pair of identical haughty sighs from Jeanne and Sylvia. James and Donna smirked at each other when he reappeared from the kitchen, and they clinked their bottles together in triumph.

“Right then! Time for presents!” James returned to his place by the tree, took a swig from his bottle, and adjusting his Santa hat, pulled a present toward him. “Aunt Sylvia! This one’s for you!”

 James was living his worst nightmare, trapped in the same house as Jeanne, who believed he was still her boyfriend, and Aunt Sylvia, who was determined to make it so. Jeanne had pouted once the gifts were all opened that she’d received no present from him, but (in her clearly delusional state) had concluded that he intended to give her something privately, later. “Une bague, peut-être?” she had teased with a cheeky conspiratorial wink. “Quel allumeur!”

Donna had groaned in response. James was sure he’d caught the words “stupid bitch” from under her breath as she rolled her eyes aggressively. He was in full agreement with the sentiment. A ring? Seriously? He could not fathom under what circumstances Jeanne could ever suspect he would be planning on asking for her hand in marriage.

Tea was (impossibly) even more excruciating than the gift exchange had been, filled with many failed attempts at awkward conversation and Jeanne playing footsie with James under the table, her silk-stockinged foot, creeping up the right leg of his trousers. He eventually resorted to squirming into a cross-legged position, which resulted in his knees hanging over the edge of his chair, his left one continually poking Donna, who shot him murderous glances from the corners of her eyes. The only bright spots throughout the entire meal were that Jeanne had brought a rather superior wine to the table, so there was no complaining from her about the quality of the drink, and that Aunt Sylvia had truly outdone herself with a sumptuous meal.

James frowned. When he thought about it, Aunt Sylvia had outdone herself in many ways this year. Looking around the house, he noticed that the Christmas décor had been transformed from the usual naff but homey selection. The posh-looking, designer-decorated Christmas tree sported none of the usual cherished ornaments from his childhood; the staircase and mantel were festooned with garland matching the tree; and there were numerous other, similar changes throughout the house, some subtle, some grandiose, all of them impersonal. She was trying to impress someone, and James had a sinking feeling that someone was Jeanne Poisson.

He was jostled from his musings by Aunt Sylvia’s voice from the end of the table, “…the University��s New Year’s Gala. What do you plan to wear, Jeanne? Not that it matters. You’ll look so beautiful on James’ arm, no matter what.”

“No, she will not!” James blurted.

“How could she not? Look at her. Lovely.”

“I don’t think anyone is denying that she’s beautiful, Aunt Sylvia. But she will not be beautiful on my arm. She will not be attending the Gala with me!” He felt his cheeks flush, and from the heat of his ears, he knew they must have been burning red. But even though it had been embarrassing, his outburst had at least been cathartic, and he no longer felt quite so cowardly. The words were out there for everyone to hear, and they just seemed to keep coming. “You are no longer my girlfriend, Jeanne. You haven’t been for a very long time. I do not love you. I don’t know how many other ways I can convince you. Why do you think I didn’t get you a gift? Why do you think I didn’t want to see you the minute you got into town? Why do you think I’ve been basically ghosting you? Hmmm?”

“Oh, such nonsense!” Sylvia retorted. “Don’t be so stupid, James. Of course, she’s your girlfriend, and you’ll be taking her to the gala.”

“I will not!”

“Oh my God, Mum!” Donna shouted.

“Oh, don’t worry, Donna,” Jeanne said. “’E likes to play these little games. ‘E knows, deep inside, we are perfect for one another, don’t you, James?”

Donna sputtered.

James was dumbfounded. He sat looking across the table at Jeanne, his mouth opening and closing stupidly, trying to find the words to express the turmoil of emotion inside him.

Donna elbowed him in the ribs. “Say something, Dumbo,” she gritted out. “Anything!”

The silence clamoured in his ears as all eyes turned on him, and he looked at everyone in turn, lastly at his Grandad who offered him a silent, sympathetic gaze.

“I cannot take you to the gala, Jeanne.”

"N'importe quoi! Mais pourquoi pas?"

Everyone’s gaze was fastened on him, anticipating his response.

“Erm… erm…” he stammered.

“Well?”

“I already have a date.” The words (pure fiction) spewed from his mouth, bypassing his brain entirely. “My girlfriend. I’m taking my girlfriend.”

The silence crashed down around him again, for several long, strained breaths.

“Well, right then…” Gramps stood up suddenly, pushing his chair back. “I’ll be up on the hill, assembling my new telescope, if anyone should need me.” He nodded significantly at James. Then, he retreated at an unreasonable speed for a man of his age, gathering up his parcels and throwing on his coat and hat. Within seconds, the slam of the back door resounded through the house.

And, all around James, there erupted a barrage of astonished cries and screeches of anger.

[wilwywaylan]

Pumpkin

Fandom : Les Misérables

Modern AU, 1237 words, Combeferre & Eponine friendship

I’m trying to slowly get back into writing and put my muse out of her slumber. I’m gonna try to do some “fictober”, where I’ll unleash a new stupid text each day :D I’ll try to center it around Autumn, but maybe not, we’ll see. It’ll be very short,  very silly, and I hope, very cute. So right now, have some cute friendship thingie !

Also on AO3 !

There was an unspoken rule among les Amis that Combeferre's reading time was not to be disturbed, even under dire circumstances. Unless of course someone was in direct danger which was curiously often for a group of usually healthy young adults. But baring those circumstances, no one was to knock on his door, call him, instant message him, yell about revolution or how a certain person was always wrong, or blast awful sugary pop in one's room. Noise was to be kept to a normal level, and culinary experiences wait until he was done. Courfeyrac and Enjolras were quite happy to follow the rules, knowing that they would get attention again soon. Even Bahorel took care to not get badly hurt during those times (he had tried going to Joly, but after his friend fainted seeing the state of his nose, he promised to abstain).

So far Combeferre's evening had been promising. He had found a sci-fi novel he had been looking for so long, his favourite tea was stimming at his side, and a fluffy plaid was drapped over his legs, filling him with a comfortable warmth. There was no noise barring from the soft hum of his heater. Everything was perfect. He was reaching the exact point where the plot was taking momentum, taking a sip of his tea, when there was a knock at the door. He put down his cup. A second knock. Then, after a few seconds, furious banging. Combeferre put down his cup, put away his plaid, shivering at the sudden cold feeling on his legs, then got up. He glanced in Courfeyrac's room, then Enjolras', but his roommates were nowhere to be seen. And the banging hadn't stop.

He flung open the door, glaring at the person who dared stop him from reading... and was met with something very orange and a glare to rival his own. Eponine was standing in front of him, carrying in her arms a very large pumpkin, and looking ready to murder someone. Either him, or the vegetable. He opened his mouth, but she beat him to the punch :

- I know you're busy reading, but I need your help.

Before he could confirm, she charged past him, crossed the hallway, and plopped her charge on the kitchen table. When Combeferre joined her, pushing his glasses up his nose, she had already discarded her coat and scarf, and put her high-heeled boots on the table.

- So ? Combeferre asked while pushing her feet back down. What do you need me for ?

She threw the pumpkin a glare made even scarier by her dark eyeshadow.

- Someone at work decided to give us a tip. This.

- Someone tipped you with.... a pumpkin ?

Combeferre knew from practice that laughing right now would be disastrous. He silently thanked whatever deity that Courfeyrac wasn't here, or he would have made a pun about tipping her over the edge and probably would have ended with an interesting pumpkin-hat. So he just nodded as if it all made perfect sense.

- So I don't know what to do with that fucking thing.

- And you think I know ?

She glanced at him, then went back to try to murder the innocent vegetable with her glare.

- I tried to ask Jehan, but he's in one of his moods again. Feuilly is busy - like there's a time he's not -, and Montparnasse just laughed in my face.

- And then you decided to ask me.

- Well, who do you want me to ask ? Courf ? Enjolras ? (she sneered) That fucking pumpkin is a fucking pain, but I don't want to ruin it. You're the one who has his shit together. You can help me make soup or something.

With a sigh, Combeferre pulled his phone out of his pocket, and looked up the first recipe he could find. Okay, that didn't sound too complicated, and even he, with his basic skills in cooking, could probably make it. He almost asked Eponine if she couldn't find a recipe on her own and follow it, especially something as basic as a soup. But he didn't. Maybe she could. And maybe she just didn't want to do it alone. Something he could very well understand.

He rolled up his sleeves and started to gather everything. He ordered Eponine to take some vegetables out. She obeyed with something of an amused smile. She went through the fridge for a moment, causing several worrying sounds, and came out with potatoes, carrots, and two bottles of beer. She opened both, and handed one to Combeferre, who took a sip. He wasn't used to drinking beer at this hour, but after all, he wasn't used to make soup either, so just one more unusual thing wasn't really much.

They started cutting up the vegetables. Eponine was very efficient at it, but Combeferre would have preferred her to be a little less... enthusiastic. Her forceful chopping did give him the impression that potatoes and carrots had personnally offended her. Well, that was the pumpkin's case. But still. He was going to have fun giving their countertop its original coloration.

Finally, everything was cut up and put to simmer. Combeferre put a timer on his phone, then went to his room to retrieve his book and his now-cold cup of tea. When he came back, Eponine had settled comfortably and was scrolling on her phone. He made them two new cups of tea, set them on the counter far from the stains, and sat opposing her with his book.

They sat in comfortable silence for forty-five minutes, sipping their tea and reading, surrounded by the sweet smell of pumpkin soup. When the timer bipped, Combeferre got up with a pinch of regret at having to abandon his reading in the middle of a good part, dug around in the cupboard until he managed to put his hand on the blender hidden behind a pile of saucepans he didn't even remember they had.

Eponine hovered over his shoulder while he blended it, until it was a nice, creamy texture. Once satisfied, he carefully tasted it. Good. Very good, even. Eponine did the same, dipping her finger directly in the pan.

- It's good, she said. You're an okay cook.

Combeferre thanked her with a smile. He tried to find a fitting container, but it seemed that even as three people, they didn't own even one that would contain a soup made with a whole pumpkin. He divided it between the three biggest ones he could find, and handed them to Eponine.

- Here you go.

She considered them for a second, then took the one on top and shoved it back into his hands.

- Here, take that. For the help.

She walked to the door, her boxes in hand. Combeferre considered the soup in his hands, then the now pumpkin-covered countertop. He barely had time to think that maybe, he should wait until morning before taking care of it, before she marched right back in, grabbed a sponge and started scrubbing.

- What ? she said when he didn't move. You thought I would let you clean that mess alone ?

- No, of course not.

- Then get to work.

With a smile that verged on dorky, Combeferre grabbed the second sponge and started cleaning with her.

[sinsiriuslyemo]

So I saw your post about taking requests for deleted scenes from past seasons of cuba vs dr, and ironically I've always wanted a scene where nevada takes care of lily and eddie while dama was in prison, if you could put that in i would greatly appreciate it, again congrats on making this series for what it is and good luck with the last season

The Beginning

Nevada had heard plenty of screams in his lifetime; gurgling screams, terrified screams, high-pitched screams, the list went on. But nothing had ever prepared him for the cries of a baby every two hours, especially at four in the morning. He’d taken care of Eddie as a baby plenty of times, but nothing compared to the 24/7 madhouse that he was living in currently.

Rolling over, he groaned a rubbed a hand over his face. He’d barely been asleep for 45 minutes and he suddenly wished he’d been the one to have been put in prison. At least that kind of madhouse, he was familiar with. He could handle a jailhouse brawl any day, but the next year taking orders from an infant was going to be brutal. He could feel it.

He got up from bed, put on a pair of sweats and shuffled into Lily’s room, carding his fingers through his hair with one hand while the other braced himself against her crib. He peered down at his daughter, who had her mouth stretched open as wide as it would go, her little tongue shaking with her cries and her eyes plump and shut tightly as her fists shook on either side of her head.

“Coño chica, doesn’t that shit give you a headache?” he asked in a gravelly voice.

She was either none the wiser of him having asked her a question or simply did not care to hear any lip service, because Lily simply continued to wail at the top of her little lungs. Sighing heavily, Nevada shifted his weight and reached down, picking Lily up and sniffing at her waist.

She didn’t need a change.

He set her against his chest with one hand on her back and gently rocked her. She didn’t care for his efforts to calm her.

The only thing left to attempt was to satiate her possible hunger and he sighed again as he went downstairs and into the kitchen with his daughter still in his arms.

“Your mother owes me big time for this shit,” he groaned, pulling a bottle out of the fridge and warming it up before he checked the temperature. He offered the rubber nipple to the infant, who didn’t see to care for that either. “Come on, mijíta, have mercy,” he mumbled to the baby.

Apparently she took after her father, because mercy was the last thing on her mind in that moment. Her little face was getting redder by the minute and Nevada set the bottle down with the intent of trying the last trick he had up his sleeve. Setting Lily down on the kitchen table, he took her onesie off and picked her up, setting her against his bare chest as he went back upstairs, making sure to grab the bottle just in case.

As soon as he got a blanket over her back and sat in the rocking chair in her room, her cries began to calm down until she was quiet again.

“Thank fuck for that,” he said in a sigh of relief.

The door opened a moment later and Eddie walked in, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Mira who decided to join the party,” Nevada said as he looked down at Lily’s face.

“She cries so loud,” Eddie groaned.

“Yeah, no shit.”

“You need any help, tio?” Eddie asked.

“No, I’m good, go back to bed,” Nevada replied. “Dale, you got your first day of school tomorrow.”

“Okay...goodnight.”

“Night,” Nevada replied, letting his rest against the back of the rocking chair. His eyes threatened to close several times, and he stood, dressing Lily in a new set of pajamas before going back to the rocking chair to offer the bottle again. This time she latched on without trouble, her eyes still closed but this time much more relaxed.

The First Solid

“Okay, escúchame bien, princesa,” Nevada said, tiny spoon in one hand and homemade baby food in the other. “Your abuela Gladys used to make this shit for your cousins all the time and they loved it. It’s like baby crack.”

Lily gave him a grin, showing off her only two teeth and giggling as she reached for the spoon.

She’d just started eating solids and seemed to hate everything Gerber had to offer. Anytime he would feed her any, she would spit it out immediately, most of which would end up on his face. Gladys hadn’t been surprised at all.

“What did you expect? Eso no es comida!” she’d said to him.

“Okay, so don’t spit this out. This is baby gold, me entiendes?”

Lily squealed, clapping her hands three times before she placed both hands on top of her head.

“Alright, here we go,” he said, gathering some mashed up vegetables onto the spoon and slowly brought it towards the baby’s mouth.

The door opened and Eddie walked in, tossing his backpack down on the floor on his way towards the stairs. He’d been volunteering after school as a tutor in the library, and usually didn’t get home until close to five.

“Oye, pick that shit up. This look like a pig stye?” Nevada asked.

“Come on, tio. Tia’s not here, we don’t have to be all clean or whatever,” Eddie groaned.

“¿Como?” Nevada asked, arching a brow. “Oye, me cago en mi abuela. Pick up your backpack, carajo.”

Eddie rolled his eyes and turned to pick up his backpack off the floor.

“¿Y que? How’d your test go?” Nevada asked, turning back to Lily and offering her the spoon.

“Good, I finished early.”

“Good,” Nevada replied as Lily pressed her lips together, refusing to taste the homemade baby food. “Come on, princesa, just taste it. I promise you’ll like it.”

Lily threw herself against the back of the highchair, turning her head to one side and grimacing.

“Lily, come on, just a bite,” Eddie said, laying his backpack on the table. The baby simply continued to swat at the spoon, blowing raspberries at Nevada.

“You got homework?” Nevada asked.

“Yeah, I can do it later though.”

“No, no, do it now. Come on, abuela and abuelo are gonna be here soon,” Nevada replied. “They’re bringing your favorite.”

“Churrasco?” Eddie asked, his eyes lighting up.

“Mhm, con arroz y frijoles, and I think abuela Gladys made a flan that she might bring over, too.”

“Oh hell yes!” Eddie cheered.

“Entonce dale, if you want some of that flan, you’ll finish all your homework,” Nevada said before he once again set his gaze on Lily. “Y tu, vamos. I want you to take a bite of this.”

Lily giggled again, squealing and reaching for Nevada, who held the spoon to her mouth again. He used the spoon to try and open her mouth by flicking it against her bottom lip.

“Open wide, mi vida,” Nevada cooed. Lily would not budge. “Mira, it’s good,” he said, putting the spoon into his mouth and humming at the taste.

“Ew,” Eddie said in a chuckle.

“¿Como que ew? It’s just blended vegetables. Abuela Gladys used to make this all the time. We could eat this, it’s like vegetable soup, she just put it through the blender,” Nevada replied.

“Seriously? Isn’t Lily supposed to be eating baby food?” Eddie asked.

“This is baby food. It’s just homemade.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, abuela said Lily shouldn’t be eating that bullshit Gerber shit,” Nevada replied  shrugging after a moment. “She didn’t like it anyway.”

“That’s kinda cool, I guess,” Eddie mumbled, pulling out his homework while Nevada continued to try and feed Lily.

He tried many tactics; peekaboo, choo-choo train, airplane, nothing worked. Lily simply giggled and squirmed in her chair, dodging the spoon every time. After a while, Nevada sighed heavily, almost giving up but deciding to try one last time.

“Lily, abre la boca,” he said. He arched a brow at the wide, green-eyed stare his daughter bestowed upon him, her mouth still closed. “Mija, por favor. Just try it,” he pleaded.

A knock at the door sounded and Eddie got up to answer it. Nevada smirked when he saw his nephew looking through the peephole before opening the door and letting Oscar and Gladys inside. The latter had tupperware filled with food while Oscar carried the flan.

“Hola, mijo. ¿Como esta?” Oscar asked, patting Eddie’s back and kissing his forehead.

“Bien. Tio’s the one that needs help,” Eddie replied, kissing Glady’s cheek and helping her with the food.

“Oye, how’s that new food, muñequita?” Oscar cooed as he walked towards Lily.

“No quiere comer. Me esta volviendo loco,” Nevada said, turning in his seat to look at Oscar. “Es para meterse la cuchara por la cabeza.”

“No niño, you gotta be patient,” Oscar replied. “Tres was like that too. Never wanted to eat anything.”

“What’d Melissa do?” Nevada asked, really wanting to know.

“She had OJ making funny faces at him and Melissa would just sneak the spoon in when he laughed,” Gladys answered as she began to open all the tupperwares and serve the food on plates.

“Mira, mira,” Oscar said, setting down the flan before he went to stand over Nevada’s shoulder. Crossing his eyes and sticking out his tongue, he placed his thumb on his nose and began to babble.

Lily started to laugh and Nevada--seeing his opportunity for victory--quickly thrust the spoon into his daughter’s mouth. Lily grimaced slightly as she tasted the food for the first time, making Nevada and Oscar laugh at her expressions. Finally she swallowed, squealed in delight, and opened her mouth again.

“Viste? All it takes is one bite,” Oscar said as he patted Nevada’s shoulder. “Your abuela makes the best baby food in New York, Iliana.”

Lily cooed up at her grandfather as Nevada fed her more of the baby food.

“Oye, dale, you have her all the time. Give abuelo some time,” Oscar said, gently shoving Nevada out of the chair and taking his spot. “Dame el baby food. Ves y ayuda tu madre.”

Nevada snorted, nodding and going to help Gladys warm up their dinner.

“Eddie go wash up,” Nevada said, patting his nephew’s shoulder.

Gladys waited until Eddie had gone to the downstairs bathroom before she spoke softly to Nevada. “¿Como estas?”

He bobbed his shoulders. “Fine.”

She snorted softly. “You forget that I did ten years alone while Oscar was locked up,” she reminded him. “You miss her?”

“A little,” he mumbled.

“Nevada…”

He sighed heavily--he seemed to be doing that a lot lately. “Yeah, I miss her.”

That was somewhat of an understatement; he didn’t just miss you, he worried about you. You weren’t like him. People like you got eaten alive on the inside unless they hooked up with someone who could watch their back. And even then, prison was not easy.

“She’s smart,” Gladys said. “She’ll be okay. So will you, Eddie and Lily.”

“I know,” he mumbled, taking Eddie’s plate out of the microwave and putting the next one in.

“You’re taking pictures of Lily for her, right?”

“Claro que si. She reminds me every time we go see her,” he answered.

“You’re doing good, mijo,” Gladys said, smiling and running a hand over the back of his head.

Nevada nodded and looked over his shoulder to see Oscar with an empty bowl, playing peekaboo with Lily. He smirked as the baby put her hands over her eyes, trying to mimic her grandfather’s movements.

“He loves babies,” Gladys said with a smile.

The First Word

Nevada and Eddie sat at a table near the back of the restaurant, the former doing his best to help with homework though he hardly remembered grasping the material when even he was in school. Usually it would be you helping Eddie with his homework, but with you in prison it fell to Nevada. He thought about hiring someone to do it for him--it wasn’t as though he wasn’t busy with Lily, who sat on his knee at that very moment, chewing on rubber keys--but Nevada had realized that he rather enjoyed this time with Eddie. Even though the preteen seemed to know more than he did about the pythagorean theorem.

“Just use the formula, mijo. That’s the easiest thing about algebra. If you know the right formula to use, it’s easy from there. Just fill in the numbers,” he said, bouncing his daughter on his knee absently as he watched Eddie fill in the correct numbers for x and y.

“When’s tia coming home?” Eddie asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

Nevada’s face fell slightly. “I don’t know.”

“Tio Rafael said he’s working on finding a way to get her sentence reduced,” Eddie offered as he continued to solve the equation. “I just wondered.”

“Your tio Rafael, he’s a smart guy. If he says he can get her out, he will,” Nevada said.

It was surprising, even to him, any time he verbally expressed faith or favor towards Rafael. It wasn’t as though he hated your brother, but with he and the prosecutor being on opposite sides of the law it seemed logical to keep his distance.

“You think so?” Eddie asked, finally looking up to meet Nevada’s eyes.

“Yeah,” the older man replied, nodding his head as he looked back at the boy. “I’m working on trying to help, too.”

Eddie nodded, letting a soft sigh escape from his nostrils as he shifted his gaze back to his homework.

Lily pulled the toy from her mouth, shaking it in front of her and cooing to herself as with the hand not holding the keys, she examined each individual shaped implement, noticing how each was a different color.

“You think Lily misses her?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah, of course she does,” Nevada mumbled.

“Think she’ll remember that tia wasn’t here right now?”

“Probably not, she’s too little. Right, princesa?” Nevada asked, looking down at his daughter, who tilted her head back to look up at him with her big, green eyes and a wide grin.

“There, I think I got it,” Eddie said, turning his notebook to show Nevada.

His uncle looked at the equation, nodding his head as he looked over the work. “Good job. Looks right to me, pero check the back of the book, see if you got it right.”

He picked Lily up and turned her to face him, pulling her up against his shoulder and letting her pat his scruffy cheek. She played with the short, coarse hairs on her father’s face, dribbling and opening her mouth to press it against Nevada’s skin. The older man snorted, using his free hand to thread his fingers through his daughter’s curls.

“I love you too, princesa,” he mumbled softly.

“Da-Da…”

Eddie whipped his head towards them, his mouth agape and eyes wide in surprise. “Whoa...did she just say dada?”

Nevada leaned his head away from Lily to look down at her. “I think so.”

“Da-Da,” Lily said again, her little hands swatting at Nevada’s nose. “Da-Da!”

Nevada grinned and peppered kisses against a little, plump cheek until his daughter was giggling and squirming away from the playful assault. As her father pressed a final kiss to her forehead, her eyes fell on the shiny object dangling from his neck, and she made an amused sound as one chubby hand took hold of it.

“Da-Da-Daaa,” she sang in a soft, high-pitched voice.

Oscar emerged from the back room and approached their table with a soft smirk. “Jefe, estamos lísto,” he said.

“Okay, dáme un minúto,” Nevada answered.

Oscar nodded once, turning to leave as Eddie looked up at his uncle.

“Tio…”

“Yeah, mijo?” Nevada replied, carefully taking his necklace away from Lily.

“Don’t die, okay?” Eddie said with a frown.

Nevada looked up at his nephew, corner of his mouth lifting as he shook his head. “I won’t.”

“Cause if you die, me and Lily will be all alone,” Eddie reminded him.

Nevada sighed heavily, nodding his head. “I know. Don’t worry, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

His answer seemed to satisfy Eddie, who nodded back at him and gave Nevada a tight smile. “Okay.”

“Da-Da-Da-Da-Da-Da…”

[vegangiftsuk13]

Vegan Gift for Vegetarian Dads On Father's Day

Father's Day is a unique day for the most significant and extraordinary man in the family. Commending the day with the entire family is a standout amongst other blessing that can be given to a dad. 

A day brimming with adoration and spoiling that will leave an engraving to his musings as probably the best memory he can at any point have. Discovering innovative approaches to make it such here and there represent a test too particularly for a vegan father. Planning dinners for the exceptional event for the entire family to share and appreciate all during that time can in the long run make it one loved memory.

What might be said about spoiling a veggie lover father the second he awakens with a morning meal in bed comprising of a blueberry vegan hotcake and a veggie frankfurter? Without a doubt he'll adore it particularly when every relative offers his morning meal directly in the limits of his room. A mob however charming.

Vegan Blueberry Pancake with Veggie Sausage

Fixings:

1 lb. Veggie wiener

1 tbsp. Olive oil

1½ cups blueberries, squashed

3 cups flour

3 level teaspoon heating powder

2 tablespoons sugar

½ teaspoon salt

5 tbsp vegetable oil

soy milk (for thicker hotcakes utilize somewhat less milk)

Strategy:

Put olive oil in a non-stick, profound and huge skillet. Spot the veggie frankfurter and cook over medium warmth until earthy colored. Eliminate, place in a sifter to deplete and save.

In a huge blending bowl, filter all together flour, preparing powder, sugar, and salt. Add soy milk and oil and speed for consistency. Add crushed blueberries and blend well.

Pour ¼ cupfuls of hitter in a lubed skillet put over a medium-warmth and cook for around 3 minutes on each side till brilliant earthy colored.

Spot in a platter and serve hot with nectar and veggie frankfurter as an afterthought. The formula makes 5 to 6 servings, everybody can share to appreciate breakfast in bed with the additional exceptional man of the day.

Set up this Vegetable Delight for supper.

Fixings:

400 grams vegan curds cut into sticks and rotisserie

1 cup mushrooms, quartered

1 cup child corn, cut into strips and whitened

1 cup spring onions

20 grams every one of celery, cleaved ginger and slashed garlic

10 grams toasted sesame seeds

25 grams bean stew sauce

25 grams tomato catsup

3 tbsp olive oil

salt and pepper to taste

Technique:

Warmth a huge saute skillet. Add oil and saute ginger, garlic and celery until light earthy colored. Throw in the cheddar, mushrooms, child corn, spring onion, stew sauce, catsup and salt. Blend well and move in a serving bowl and trimming with sesame seeds and some green piece of green onions. Serve hot.

Ringer Pepper Soup Recipe

Fixings:

1½ cup green or red ringer pepper, eliminate seeds and cut

4 cloves garlic, hacked

1 huge onion, cut

¾ cup tomato glue

3 cups vegetable stock

2 tbsp hacked basil

green piece of spring onions to garnish,chopped

salt and pepper to taste

System:

Combine all as one ringer pepper, garlic, onion, tomato glue, vegetable stock in a huge pot and heat to the point of boiling while continually blending. Lessen warmth and stew until chime peppers have relaxed. Channel or strainer the combination and put away the fluid. Puree the extra bits.Boil together the fluid, the puree and hacked basil in a huge pot or pot and enhancement with slashed green piece of spring onion. Sprinkle salt and pepper to taste. Serve hot.

Green smoothies come well to extinguish thirst close to water. They can be effectively set up with blends of new products of the soil. When new, they are adequately sweet to shun adding sugar,. They are presently well known wellbeing patterns as they are useful for the resistant framework, for detoxifying, for purging and empowering the body and weight reduction. Coconut water can be mixed with spinach, mango and wild nectar. Mixes of different products of the soil can be tested for the ideal taste. So natural now with blenders and other kitchen devices around.

Cause him to feel extraordinary by setting up these veggie plans uncommonly for your vegan father. All things considered, the adage " A path to a man's heart is through his stomach", actually applies Father's day or not. Cheerful Father's Day to every one of the dads in the entire world!

[allthingsteenwolf20]

Baby come back to me - Part Two

Here's part two, I hope you guys enjoy reading this little mini fic that I've been writing with @beaconhills17

After Deaton had explained that we were to care for Liam until he had healed and the antidote was being prepared, I couldn’t wait to get my baby home as quick as possible.

I picked Liam up in my arms, his head resting against my shoulder as he nuzzled into me. I followed behind Derek heading to our car so we could get home. Liam was resting in my lap when his eyes fluttered open. 

“Momma…?” He groaned in pain. 

“I’m right here, sweetheart. Momma’s right here.” I cooed reassuring him. “W'as ‘app'nin’…” He mumbled. 

“Baby, you have wolf bane in your system so you need to rest and let momma take care of you ok. Deaton got most of it out and he’s making the antidote. Hold on just a little longer, sweetie. You’ll be better in no time, I promise. I love you so much, my baby.” I explained pressing a kiss to his forehead. Liam nodded as his eyes began to flutter shut again and he passed out against me. 

“Derek, please hurry,” I told the older alpha impatiently.

It wasn’t long until we arrived back home to the loft. Derek took Liam from my arms and carried him into the living room placing him on the couch. I ran around the loft gathering everything he’d need such as more tissues, bottles of water, the first aid kit and medicines placing them on the coffee table. 

Derek headed upstairs gathering more pillows and blankets for Liam making sure he was comfortable. I sat beside Liam on the couch and pressed a kiss to his forehead. I checked his wound making sure he was ok and it wasn’t infected and thankfully he was fine.

“Derek? We’re going to have to go to the store to get a few things for Liam.” I addressed. Derek nodded in agreement. 

“We’ll go first thing tomorrow. The pack will come over and I’ll out Lydia in charge of watching Liam. She’ll keep up updated whilst we get what we need.” He reassured me. I nodded in response and sighed sadly. I leaned down and pressed a loving kiss to Liam’s forehead.

That night, we couldn’t sleep because of Liam’s constant whining. We couldn’t work out if he needed something or was uncomfortable so we spent the night in the living room watching over him. I made sure to feed Liam some light tomato soup and half a bottle of water making sure he was fed and kept hydrated. Over an hour later, Derek helped Liam use the bathroom making sure the poor pup didn’t pass out or fall. Derek came back down to the living room and placed Liam on the couch as I tucked him in making sure he was comfortable. Derek slumped down on the single armchair and sighed deeply. 

“Babe, it’s going to be a long night.” He told me, causing me to sighed and nodded in agreement as I looked down at Liam fast asleep running my fingers through his hair.

~ The Next Day ~

We were running on 4 hours of sleep between us. Derek trudged to the kitchen glancing up at the clock that read 8:23 am. He yawned as he began to take out all the ingredients to make Liam a filling strawberry and banana breakfast smoothie making sure it was blended properly so he would be able to drink it easily.

Meanwhile, I was resting my eyes falling in and out of sleep in the living room. I was sat on the floor in front of the couch and my head rested on my arms as I laid on the coffee table. Derek switched on the blender and I jumped out of my skin waking up. 

“What? What is it? What’s going on?!” I asked jerking awake all of a sudden as I heard Derek in the kitchen. I stretched and yawned cracking my bones as I got up and headed into the kitchen myself putting on a fresh pot of coffee for the two of us.

I carefully woke up Liam helping him up the stairs to wash up and brush his teeth before I fed him his breakfast smoothie. 

“Come on baby, you need to eat.” I urged him yawning in between. Liam latched on to the bottle and began to drink down his breakfast. I sighed a breath of relief and pressed a kiss to Liam’s forehead as he continued to have his breakfast. Derek prepared two bowls of porridge with fruit and chocolate chips for us both and we sat together eating in silence as the only the sound coming from them was the slurping as we drank their coffee.

It wasn’t long until the pack flooded into the loft and sat down in the living room keeping an eye on Liam. Derek and I went upstairs to get changed as we needed to head to the store to get a few things for Liam. Derek grabbed his phone and the keys to the car and headed down to the kitchen where he met the pretty redhead. 

“Lydia, Y/N and I are going to the store this morning so I’m putting you in charge until we get back. Make sure Liam is well hydrated. He’s eaten and has just been to the bathroom. He should be ok until we get back but keep an eye on him. We won’t be long.” He told her. 

I came downstairs in my jacket, going over to Liam, placing a soft kiss on to his forehead and followed Derek out to the car as we headed to the grocery store early that morning.

“I hate seeing my poor baby like that!” I told Derek as I opened the car door, sitting down and putting my belt on.

“I know me too, but he’s with us and he’s slowly getting better,” Derek said as he gave me a soft smile then letting out a big yawn, making me do the same. 

“I know it’s going to be a long 3 days,” I sighed as I rested my head on the back of my seat resting my eyes as I continued to talk to Derek. 

“I think when we get home, we should take Liam up to his room. He would be more comfortable in his bed where it’s warm and cosy for him. Plus it’s much closer to the bathroom,” I informed Derek, opening my eyes to see his that he was smiling and nodded. 

“That’s a perfect idea, also means that he will get better rest as his bed is so much comfier than our sofas. I think Liam will like that.” Derek said as he stopped at a red traffic light, yawning again. 

“We will do that when we get back in,” I smiled closing my eyes again. Which was a bad idea as I had the horrible image of what Deaton told us about the wolfs bane on how it kills were wolves, happening to Liam. The image of him lay on the floor with black blood pouring out of him as he had a big gaping hole in his chest. 

“Babe? What’s wrong?” Derek asked parking stopping the car on the side walk, taking his seat belt off and turning to me, grabbing his hands. I didn’t realise until this that I was crying. Everything was just too overwhelming. 

“It’s okay, I’m here,” Derek cooed as he pulled me into a tight hug rubbing my back to comfort me. We stayed in this position as I began to sob. How could he do that to my baby? How could have let this happen? That image just kept coming back to me. 

“Babe, come on talk to me,” Derek told me as he cupped my cheeks and wiped my tears away with his thumb. 

“I wanna find that Garret kid and rip his throat out, with my teeth,” I spat as I tried to stop myself from crying. 

“Hey! That’s my job. And no one steals my job,” Derek Stated causing me to laugh and smile.

“There’s that beautiful smile I love to see,” he confessed as he kissed my lips. 

“But I can’t believe he would do that to Liam. I remember Liam telling me that he and Garret met when they were 6 and they have been friends ever since,” I told him as I could feel my blood start to boil. 

“Babe, we won’t let Garret near him, ever again okay,” Derek comforted me trying to reassure me that everything was okay. 

“I just keep getting the image of if we didn’t help Liam in time,” I told him as I could feel my eyes fill up with tears again.

“Hey-hey-hey, that didn’t happen. Our little pup is one the mend now okay. So why don’t we get going to the store and pick up some things for Liam, then get back home to him,” Derek suggested as he kissed my forehead then one onto my lips as he put his belt back on as I nodded.  

“Let’s go then,” I said as I sent Lydia a quick text to make sure everything was okay, and within a few seconds, I got one back saying that everything is in and Liam is still out cold.

Derek and I arrived at the store. I took out the list I had put together earlier whilst Derek got the cart and we started our shopping trip.  

“Where are we heading first, babe?” Derek asked. 

“Groceries. We need food first. I was thinking for dinner I’d make a chicken pot roast in the slow cooker? And then for Liam, like Deaton said he needs soft food so I’m thinking bananas, soup and maybe something fun like strawberry jelly”. She told him. Derek smiled and nodded in agreement.

“He’ll like that.” He told her. 

“Anything for my baby.” I sighed.  

We started off by getting all the groceries we needed. I picked up a variety of fresh vegetables and then headed to the refrigerator section where I put in cartons of orange juice and apple juice knowing that it was Liam’s favourite. Next week I headed to the tinned goods aisle where I choose a variety of soups for Liam since he couldn’t eat solid food yet as he kept drifting in and out of consciousness. 

“Do you think this is enough?” I asked Derek.

“I’d say so. If you need anything else I can always run out and get it?” Derek suggested. I nodded. 

Once all the food was taken care of, the couple headed to the medication aisle. I put in rolls of dressing, dressing pads and antiseptic wipes looking between the cart and shelf to see if I needed to add more. 

“Baby, calm down. We don’t need that much.” Derek chuckled. 

“You can’t blame me for wanting to be prepared,” She told Derek who chuckled and shook his head at her. 

“Alright, where to next?” She asked Derek. 

“We just need the baby monitor and that’s about it.” He told her. 

“Oh shoot! I forgot to get painkillers!” I remembered. 

“Why don’t I get the baby monitor and I’ll meet you at the cash register?” Derek suggested.

“Alright, I shouldn’t be too long,” I told him heading back.

Derek went to the baby aisle and got the baby monitors as we had discussed previously.

 As he was about to head to the cash register, he noticed a tall blue plastic cup with a spout that looked like the equivalent of a sippy cup and added it to the cart. 

On the way down to meet me, he saw the toy aisle and found something that caught his eye knowing that Liam would definitely like it. He detoured down the aisle and picked up the large fluffy brown monkey from the shelf and added it to the cart. He found me waiting for him. I looked up to see him coming my way and then her eyes landed on the toy monkey.

“What’s with the monkey?” I chuckled. 

“It’s for Liam. It’s super soft and cuddly. I thought he’d like something to cuddle. Something to comfort him.” Derek suggested putting it on the belt. 

“Derek Hale, aren’t you thoughtful?” I smiled and pressed a kiss to his lips. 

“I’d do anything for our pup.” He told her. I smiled and nodded.

“I know that. You’re a great dad to him.” I told him.

Once they had paid for everything, they went back to their car putting everything in the trunk and home to the loft to check on the pack and see to Liam.

When we got back the loft, both Derek and I carried all the shopping up to hear that it was silent. We slid the loft door open to Lydia was sat on the sofa with her lap top on the arm of the sofa and had Liam’s head rested on her lap, as he was wrapped up in two blankets that were pulled up to his neck.

“He was shivering, so I thought I would get him another blanket, and he has drunk quite a lot, that is the 3rd time I have filled it up for him and half of that is gone,” Lydia informed us as she placed Liam’s water bottle on the table, turning off her laptop. 

“Yeah, that’s fine, thank you for taking care of him for us, Lydia. Where is the rest of the pack?” I asked looking around for them as Derek took the bags off me.

“Oh, Stiles needed to go and see his dad about some things so Malia went with him, Scott had to go and pick his mom up from the hospital and Kira had to go because he was her ride home,” Lydia told me as I kneeled down in front of Liam resting my hand on his head still feeling that he had a high fever.

“Thank you again, Lydia, we owe you one,” I told her standing back up as I gave her a hug. 

“Well I better get going, I have this project to do for school,” She told us grabbing her things, saying all our goodbyes she left the loft leaving just the three of us.

“Babe? Do we have any Tylenol?” I asked as I grabbed Liam his bottle and brought it to his mouth, as he latched onto his drinking his water as I ran my hands through his sweaty hair. Derek came back in handing me the bottle of medicine and a syringe as it would be easier to give it to Liam. 

As I tried to take the bottle from his mouth he moaned not wanting to let the bottle go.

“Baby, come on let momma give you some medicine,” I cooed as I rubbed his cheek with his my thumb, as he finally let the bottle fall from his mouth and I soon replaced it with the syringe as I gave him his medicine as he screwed his face up as moaning shuffling on the sofa getting quite close to the edge. 

“Derek, do you take up to our bed now? I don’t want him falling off the sofa,” I called to him as I kissed the top of Liam’s head.

Derek took Liam from my arms ready to take him upstairs. I pressed a kiss to Liam’s forehead and gently ran my fingers through his soft sandy brown hair.  

“We’re right here, baby. You’re going to be ok. You’re home now.” I whispered to him. Derek carried Liam up to his bedroom and placed him on the bed making sure he was comfortable. He switched on the baby monitor and left one handset on Liam’s bedside table whilst carrying the other down to the kitchen where I was chopping up vegetables for lunch. 

“Is he ok?” I asked him. 

“He’s fine, he’s resting. The baby monitor is on so we’ll hear him if anything happens.” Derek reassured me as he took the knife from me and continued to chop up vegetables. Whilst Derek prepped the pot roast for lunch and dinner, I poured some tomato soup into a pan and warmed it up. I set everything on a small tray with his water bottle of orange juice and took it upstairs to Liam’s room.

I walked into his room to see him awake but extremely groggy. I put the tray of food down on his bedside table and pulled him onto my lap. 

“Hi baby, how’re you feeling?” I asked him as I leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead as I stroked his cheek with the pad of my thumb. 

“Momma…eve'tin’ hu'ts.” Liam grumbled. 

“I know baby, I know. Can you sit up and see if you can stomach some food?” I asked sitting him up in my lap. I took the bowl of warm soup and stirred it with the spoon before bringing it to Liam’s lips.  

“It’s tomato soup, baby. Your favourite. When you’re better momma will make you all the grilled cheese sandwiches you want after.” I told him pressing a kiss to his forehead. Liam opened his mouth welcoming the warm soup that trickled down his throat making him feel a little better. 

“Good boy, try and eat it all of it. You need your strength, sweetheart.” I cooed as I continued to feed him. Once he was done, I wiped his face and pressed another kiss to his cheek and rocked him in my arms resting my head on top of his head. 

“I love you, baby. Momma’s going to do everything possible to make sure you’re better, I promise.” I promised him. Derek knocked on the door and saw me sat on the bed with Liam snuggled up in my arms. 

“Lunch is ready, babe,” Derek told me. 

“I’m coming, I just finished feeding Liam.” I told him. Derek smiled and walked up to Liam pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

“We’ve got you, pup. You’re safe. Try and rest.” Derek told him. I laid Liam down on his bed and laid beside him for a few minutes, I ran my fingers through his hair. I pressed a kiss to his cheek and then got up following behind Derek as we headed downstairs to have lunch together.

Derek had placed our dinner on the table, with a candle in the middle of the table, with a glass of orange juice at the side. The sweet smell of homemade food filled the kitchen as we sat down to dig in. I left the baby monitor next to my glass so I could make sure Liam is okay. 

“He’s getting better babe, he’s staying awake longer and talking. That’s a really good sign, yes he his still drifting in and out of conscious, but with us looking after him he’s getting,” Derek reassured me as he cut up his food taking a mouth full.

“Yeah, but I hate seeing my baby like this. I want him to be sat at the table with us eating. Not having to spoon feed him, to make sure that he is eating and drinking, I want my baby back,” I sighed as I took a mouth full of goodness.  

“I know, I want him back too, but he is safe here. He has us. Later tonight I will bring him to our bed so we can keep a close eye on him,” Derek told me as he took a sip of juice. I couldn’t help just thinking about how my baby, was in bed, probably in pain as he slept.

Once we finished our dinner, I helped clean up and listened to the baby monitor to only hear soft snores come through, so Derek and I both went into the living room and snuggled up on the sofa. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close to his chest as I rested my head on his. He placed a soft kiss on my forehead and hugged me tightly as he knew how worried I was about Liam.  

We stayed snuggled for around an hour, enjoying each other presents as we watched the TV which we had on low for we could hear if Liam needed us. So when I heard his cries through the baby monitor, my heart raced and I shot up running to his room.