ic inbox

[credere]

 [ voice | video | text | spam ]

Comments

[credere]

That earns him a pause. However, after the Barge and the circus, it's become a lot easier to see his own culture from the outside.

"There's...some really long answers to that. But, if you tell everyone they can only look and act in a few ways, I guess it's easier to see the people who don't want to be told what to do."

[anonyreyev]

"I never do want to be told what to do."

He allows, thoughtfully, kissing the nape of his neck now, and deciding;

"I'd better help. What can I do?"

[credere]

Aw.

"Oh, um - can you fetch the things on the list from the food storage? I'll get the equipment."

[anonyreyev]

He peers past him to look over the list, and hums his assent, padding off to go find what they'll need to pull off dinner.

He comes back with his arms heaped up, and wonders;

"What is this all going to turn into?"

[credere]

“Ratatouille,” he pronounces it wrong, he’s only ever seen it written down, “fish stew, vegetable risotto. I’m trying to get through the fresh things that won’t freeze well.”

He’s learned more about food prep, preservation and nutrition in general in the last year on the Barge than he did in over a decade of labour in a depressing soup kitchen.

[anonyreyev]

"I love knifework."

Says Peter helpfully, setting everything down and catching an eggplant as it tries to jump off the counter.

"I can do that part?"

[credere]

“...Yes,” Credence says, after a few moments of wondering if this is a behaviour he should be encouraging. Never mind.

He waits for them to settle into a rhythm before asking, gently:

“Have you talked to...?”

[anonyreyev]

"Fraser? Yes. We're on hold; he was a bit surprised to find out about you and needs a little while to think."

Stooping to kiss Credence's temple, before laying out a cutting board and starting in with gusto, while not thinking about Juno.

"We'll see how it works out."

[credere]

Ah. So that’s what ‘basket case’ looks like today. Flat denial.

“....Right.”

He glances over from his own, semi-automated food prep.

“Me specifically or just that there’s someone else?”

[anonyreyev]

"I couldn't tell. He's hard to read. He had a lot of questions about non-monogamy, so probably just that."

But he isn't one for total reassurance, prefers a more cautious take.

"I also hit on Klaus quite a bit before I realized who and what and how and you- but not so much I can't delicately walk that back into platonic friendship."

[credere]

"Oh."

It's hard not to think they're a better fit for each other, but then again, he's not sure he wants Klaus mixed up in any imminent basket casery, either.

"I think he flirts at least a little with everyone he meets."

[anonyreyev]

"I really saw myself in him."

He agrees, and slides him an eggplant shaved into practically slivers.

Zucchini next.

"Although I think I have a better sense of style."

[credere]

“You have,” Credence says, although he knows he’s on thin ice making such value judgements. “He helped me choose the things I found for you at port, though.”

[anonyreyev]

"Then there's hope for him yet."

He says, and dips back to The Question.

"Haven't talked to Juno yet. Dove around a corner to avoid him while he was walking by, this morning."

[credere]

“....If you don’t want to work on service, you don’t have to.”

Or maybe he’s chosen to work here so he won’t have the option of avoiding him.

[anonyreyev]

"I'll do the back end work."

He promises, onto the tomatoes next.

"Dishes while you serve, replacements for the sides as they go."

[credere]

"I would have hated that when I first started working here," he says, almost to himself. "But that sounds good. And I could hit him again if he stays too long."

He doesn't mean it. Probably.

[anonyreyev]

"Hit him? Again?"

Says Peter, who if he was told this, forgot it in all the emotional turbulence.

[credere]

Honestly, given the amount of gin he watched Peter drink, Credence would be amazed if he remembered anything from that evening's conversation. So he reminds him, patiently:

"We met in the greenhouse. He introduced himself and I punched him in the stomach."

[anonyreyev]

"How late can dinner be?"

He asks, and grabs him- he's going to have tomato on his ass now, and a full dinner shift to do ahead of them still.

[credere]

"Peter - it can't be late," Credence says, conscientiously, and squirms out of range. "....But, you asked me to stay later."

[anonyreyev]

"It could be, though."

He proposes, chuckling, but subsiding and going back to tomatoes.

[credere]

It's nice, he has to reflect, that he's not working alone any more - not only not alone, but with someone he started out on the right note with. He's friendly enough with Fives now, but he's always aware that they had to renegotiate the assumptions they made about each other.

Time wears on, and he works on cleaning up as the shift wears down, their own meals plated up and waiting.

[anonyreyev]

He's there leaning against the counter when Credence comes back in, brimming with 'let's blow off our responsibilities and leave the dishes for breakfast' energy.

"I'm starving."

[credere]

Credence is a meticulous but magically efficient cleaner.

"Me too."

He hands Peter his plate - still lightly steaming and fresh, magic again - and then takes up his own, careful to lock the door behind them when they leave.

(Given what he's observed about Peter, he thinks it's just as well that all the knives get counted in and out.)