A Few Substitutions

[justfuckingtryit]

[The counter in the ratty little apartment is overrun with a handful of potatoes, some cookware that's decidedly a mismatched set, and a cookbook that has definitely seen better days. Lumen's standing in front of it, peering down at a page that's stained with age and who knows what else.]

You look at this thing yet? We're missing half the ingredients.

Comments

[justfuckingtryit]

[Blanket: no.]

[Quetzalcoatl feather: no.]

[A single shoelace: definitely not.]

[we_meet_again]

[Watching this fountain of random objects piling up all over the counter while beating the eggs with an old fork.]

[justfuckingtryit]

[A bookmark.]

[A bar of soap.]

[A Kenny Crow t-shirt.]

Oh, for fuck's sake.

[we_meet_again]

.....

[justfuckingtryit]

[There it is: milk.]

Fucking finally.

[we_meet_again]

Oh whew.

[Double-checking the list pinned to the kitchen wall.]

Apparently I have half an onion. Do you think that will be enough?

[justfuckingtryit]

What're we gonna do, grow another onion? It'll be fine.

[Putting all of this random other stuff away again.]

[we_meet_again]

Hah, yeah, I guess there's nothing to do about it! Unless there's something on this list we should swap it with... Looks like other roots we have include, uh... some radishes, canned beets, um... a turnip.

[justfuckingtryit]

Radishes might work.

[He's going back to scrubbing the potatoes.]

[we_meet_again]

Radishes it is!

[He opens his hand over the cutting board. There's a flash of light and half an onion appears, followed by four surprisingly fresh-looking radishes, leaves still attached.]

In the interest of not wasting anything, how 'bout we use the greens, too? Since we aren't using peppers.

[justfuckingtryit]

Sure, why not?

[Starting to chop up these potatoes, skin and all.]

[we_meet_again]

Nice.

[He washes the radishes and onion, but there's only enough space in their microscopic kitchen for one person to use the cutting board at a time. Looks like he's out of stuff to do. Oh no. He puts his wet hands on the sides of Lumen's t-shirt to dry them off.]

[justfuckingtryit]

[At the impromptu shirt towel move, Lumen tips his head all the way back so that he's staring up at Suri's face, upside-down. His hands are still busy chopping this potato, which seems like it might be dangerous to fingers? But he doesn't falter, and the slices stay even.]

Really?

[we_meet_again]

[Flirting with Lumen and also death, he looks him square in the eyes.]

Yes.

[And puts his wet hands on Lumen's cheeks.]

[justfuckingtryit]

We could get a towel.

[we_meet_again]

It's fine, I don't need one.

[He wipes his hand one last time across Lumen's shoulders as he moves over to the oven.]

[justfuckingtryit]

[Just. Sidelong glance that is exasperated and more than a little fond, before he turns his attention back to the potatoes.]

Course you don't.

[we_meet_again]

[Preheating the oven according to the cookbook instructions.]

It's not my fault you're so absorbent.

[justfuckingtryit]

[He gives a little snort.]

Haven't you heard? It's my best quality.

[we_meet_again]

Your best quality? Not by a mile.

[justfuckingtryit]

[Just. Going vaguely red and turning away to dump these potatoes into a frying pan.]

Anyway, scoot over. I've got to fry these things.

[we_meet_again]

[omg he's so cute. It takes serious effort not to laugh, and even more not to tease. Instead, he says nothing as he switches places and moves to man the cutting board.]

[justfuckingtryit]

[Turns on the stove and puts these potatoes on to fry.]

[After a beat or two:]

Hey, you done with the radishes?

[we_meet_again]

What? No, of course not. You know I'm not good at this.

[justfuckingtryit]

[He makes a noncommital noise, absently opening up a jar of sea salt and throwing some on the potatoes.]

Not like I'm a five-star chef over here.