Hi lovelies, thank you for reading and enjoy! This is a slow-burn so come back later if you're looking for sexy times. If you're looking for cute romance then read on. XOXO thanks for stopping by! -- Im
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Feldspar looked around the kitchen of Silver's home in a hollowed out treetop, feeling completely out of his element. As soon as he had arrived Silver had turned into an unfamiliar, domineering taskmaster. First he'd put him to work washing pots and pans. Then he'd barked at him about wiping the counters down until they sparkled. Now, Silver was pulling jars and canisters helter-skelter from his cabinets and putting them all over the freshly cleaned countertop.
"We need rosemary, tomatoes, zucchini, summer squash, thyme, and mozzarella. No -- parm. No -- yes. Just get all the cheese. I don't know what I have in there," Silver called out, as he rooted through another cabinet.
Feldspar dutifully opened the cold storage. Every shelf was packed to the brim, food containers stacked precariously one on top of another. He looked dubiously at the shelves, trying to decipher what organizational system Silver had employed while trying to remember at least one or two of the ingredients he'd been tasked with finding.
"You're letting the cold out," Silver said. Feldspar grimaced but when he looked up he saw a teasing smile on Silver's face. Feldspar snorted and gestured at the impenetrable maze of containers. He had no idea how to find anything in the completely stuffed box.
Silver told him to check the drawers and sure enough they were full of fresh herbs and vegetables. Feldspar remembered tomatoes and rosemary, so he pulled those out first. He debated over which of the yellow squashes was summer squash and eventually put them all on the counter next to the safer ingredients. For good measure he pulled out a few other things he thought might have been on the list.
Silver had apparently finished his own ingredient hunt and came to see how Feldspar was doing. He chuckled and reached around him to deftly retrieve the missing ingredients and put back the spaghetti squash Feldspar had mistakenly taken out.
Feldspar looked out the window. The sun was already low in the sky. He'd spent all afternoon at Silver's tree and they hadn't even cooked anything yet. "I thought my cooking lesson would perhaps involve... cooking."
"This," Silver said dramatically, "was the most important cooking lesson you could have. Mise-en-place, Feldspar. Mise-en-place." Silver looked at him with an infuriating and adorable mix of satisfaction and mischief.
Feldspar hated to give him the pleasure of admitting he had no idea what he was talking about, but there was nothing for it. He let out a long exasperated sigh, matching Silver's level of theatricality. "What's mise-en-place?" he asked dryly.
"It's French for 'put in place.' You can't cook if everything isn't prepared. Tools and surfaces need to be clean. Knives need to be sharp. You've got to have all your ingredients prepped and ready. It's the foundation."
He pulled a worn piece of paper from his apron pocket with a flourish. "Now, we can get cooking."
He handed the well-loved recipe to Feldspar to read, and then set about showing him how to chop each vegetable and measure each ingredient. Despite all his years wielding a sword, dicing was a completely different skill. Each time Silver reached over to correct the position of his hands as he chopped Feldspar's stomach fluttered. An hour later he was putting ratatouille into the oven, filled with pride at having done almost everything himself. It didn't matter one bit that it didn't look quite like the picture printed on the fraying recipe page.
"Now what do we do?" he asked.
"The best part," Silver said. He held up a bottle of wine as he made his way across the small room to the couch. Silver's tree wasn't nearly as large as the one Feldspar and his roommates shared, and he'd used almost all of this level for his kitchen. The leftover space had only a small coffee table surrounded by cushions on the floor.
Silver took a swig from the wine bottle and passed it to Feldspar. He commented on the vintage and the small town in France where he'd picked up the bottle. Feldspar took a long pull and savored the flavor, trying to taste the notes of blackberry, charcoal, and oak that Silver had mentioned. His descriptions were so vivid that Feldspar felt like he was tasting something wholly new. He couldn't help but think that usually someone who was that precious about their wine would be annoying, but Silver just wasn't. He wasn't putting on airs about the wine.
By the time the ratatouille was ready to come out of the oven they'd finished two-thirds of the bottle. Feldspar burned his tongue on the first bite, and it was worth it. He looked up and saw that Silver was patiently letting his first bite cool down. Silver chewed the bite slowly, eyes closed to savor it. Feldspar's chest tightened as he waited for the chef's verdict. His eyes drank in the look of gratification on Silver's face and the way his usually tidy silver hair fell over his eyes. His cheek had had a red smudge from cooking and Feldspar had the strongest urge to wipe it off his face just for the excuse to touch him. He looked unstudied and beautiful.
