MP ...
MP I'm sorry, what the fuck did you just say?
He sounds completely taken aback. You hope it's just that, and not disgust or revulsion.
Y/N You seemed to want in on this.
Y/N Well, it's your lucky day.
Y/N We can enjoy it together.
MP ...
He puts his hand out and opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Seems you've struck him speechless, somehow.
Y/N Unless you're busy.
Y/N Or you hate good food. Either way,
Y/N The offer's on the table.
Since he isn't responding, you look back at the selection, hum in consideration, and pick up a steak that isn't too expensive but isn't too cheap either. But suddenly, a hand comes down on your shoulder.
MP You can do better than that.
You look back at Maple, who has an unreadable expression on his face.
MP C'mon. That's barely choice.
MP They're ripping you off with that amount of marbling.
MP Get this one.
He holds up a seemingly identical looking steak. But if you look closer, there is indeed more marbling.
Y/N Huh. I thought prime would be more expensive than this.
MP It is.
MP They just priced it wrong.
Y/N I didn't know that could happen.
MP Tch. Their fault for not paying closer attention.
MP And our prize to claim.
He casually swaps out your steak for his, quickly placing the less marbled one back in the freezer.
Y/N Ours, huh?
His shoulders tense. You'd be more threatened by his glare if you didn't know this defensive attitude from his offensive one.
MP Shove it.
MP It's way too soon for shit like that.
MP Just go and ring this up already.
Y/N Okay.
Y/N I was thinking oven-roasted potato wedges and green beans for the side.
Y/N Do you have a preference?
MP Tch.
MP Since you're treating me, I'd be a dickhead to get too greedy.
MP But. One condition.
He steps closer, enough that you can see his eyes glow as his face is shadowed.
MP I do the cooking.
You blink.
Y/N You don't have to.
Y/N It's not like just because I'm paying for the ingredients -
MP You think I'm gonna sit at the table with my thumb up my ass?
MP It'll get done quicker and better this way.
MP Trust me.
You haven't witnessed Maple's cooking first-hand. In fact, considering his usual diet, you assumed his skills were average at best. Your confusion must be noticeable, since he sighs and shoves his hands into his jacket pockets.
MP Just because I can survive on things other than filet mignon,
MP Doesn't mean I lack a honed palate, you know.
MP Or the skills to back it up.
Y/N You've cooked steak before?
MP Kaha. I've had it for special occasions in the past.
MP And as decent of a chef as my uncle is, he doesn't know the burner like I do.
Y/N Sounds like they were lucky to have you.
MP Tch. They sure have a fine time showing it.
MP Especially since my dumb brother's been on a vegetarian kick for a while, now.
MP I swear, he used to like meat when he was young.
MP But he changed his mind at some point. Animal rights shit.
MP It'd be alright if he wasn't turning up his nose at some fine-ass cuisine.
MP Used to kick his teeth in for it.
MP Eventually, I realized he was serious, so I found meat substitutes.
MP Difficult little prick.
As acerbic as his language is, you know that if you dared say something similarly insulting about them, you'd be on the receiving end of an ass-whooping. The fact that he's talking about them at all (as well as his childhood) is a kind of vulnerability that you appreciate.
Y/N How's his cooking?
MP Non-existent, from what I can tell.
MP Fucker likes to forage for his food rather than prepare it.
Y/N What, like berries and leaves?
MP Like turning into a squirrel and scavenging the parks type shit.
MP It's disgusting. I've told him that.
MP Why's he acting like we grew up starving? Like we didn't know how to use a stove?
MP Pisses me off.
MP And you'd think he'd end up in the hospital after a move like that,
MP But his Value affects his stomach and digestion, believe it or not.
MP He gets away with it all the time.
MP Wish he'd shapeshift into a fucking adult for once.
There's a faint burning smell. You look around for the source, and you realize that there's smoke rising from the handle of Maple's shopping basket. He notices right as you do, so he swears under his breath and drops it to the floor.
MP Damn it -
You open the fridge and break off a chunk of ice from the wall. Then, you put it on the handle, causing the plastic to sizzle and stiffen.
MP Gods.
MP Forgot I shouldn't be holding shit when I go off.
MP Thanks. Or whatever.
Y/N It's fine.
Y/N I don't think the basket is ruined.
When you lift up the ice block, you see that the handle has indents in the shape of Maple's fingers. You grimace.
Y/N You don't burn fingerprints on things, right?
MP I'm pretty sure the burn itself is identifying enough, dumbass.
Y/N Well, they probably won't notice until later.
Y/N And it was worth it. I like hearing you talk about them.
You lift up the basket and look back at Maple, who's scoffing.
MP You know my groceries are in there too?
MP I didn't ask for a provider.
Y/N Then we don't have to combine it. Self-checkout and all.
Y/N C'mon.
You start heading to the checkout area, Maple's footsteps accompanying yours. Once you're both done paying, you meet each other at Maple's place for dinner (he insisted that he use the 'forge' he knows).
You've seen him work, and it's remarkably similar to how he cooks. It's not the most delicate or precise, but there's a level of concentration and finesse to it. His eyebrows are knitted in focus, his mouth muttering details and observations now and then. You offer to help, but another body in his workspace was more invasive than anything. So you ended up wandering around, tidying up and taking care of anything out of place. Which wasn't a lot, since Maple keeps a surprisingly clean living space. Maybe because he has the ability to inadvertently immolate whatever he touches.
As you sit on the living room couch, running your fingers through the little parts that have years-old singe marks, you see Maple come out of the kitchen while wiping his hands with a rag.
MP Hey.
MP Come over here.
You oblige, entering the kitchen and getting a heavier whiff of that delicious smell. The steak has already been cut, and a slice has been placed on a little plate. He leans on the counter and lifts an eyebrow expectantly. You take a fork and eat the slice, chewing thoughtfully.
MP So?
Y/N ...
Y/N Before I give final judgment,
MP Raging Ruber...
Y/N I'm not a professional critic,
Y/N And I don't eat fancy expensive dishes often enough to really judge them.
MP Are you done stating the obvious?
MP If I wanted a dick from the industry with a notepad, I'd get one.
MP Just say how it is.
Y/N ...
Y/N It's fantastic.
Maple smirks proudly.
MP What else?
Y/N You were right. This is marbled to perfection.
Y/N And you cut it evenly, too.
Y/N So...
Y/N My compliments to the chef.
He walks over, and even though you're standing in front of the stove, you can feel the temperature rising.
MP It's what a fine-ass cut deserves.
Suddenly feeling brave, you poke your fork through another piece and hold it up to him.
Y/N It's for you, too.
Y/N You deserve a bite.
MP ...
Enough seconds pass to make you think that you completely embarrassed yourself. But eventually, Maple scoffs, brushes his hair out of the way, and bends down. His mouth goes around the fork, and he jerks it out of your hands. He then takes it out of the piece and chews. The moan he lets out is so un-Maplelike, you have to hold back a laugh.
MP Gods. I've missed this.
Y/N You should treat yourself more.
MP That's nice in theory, Y/N.
MP Wish I lived that kind of life.
Y/N Is it the money?
MP Money's the main part.
MP Mostly, I can't ass myself to give a fuck.
Y/N ...
Y/N Well, we should do this again sometime.
His blissful expression is turned to you, and you have the feeling that it's not just from the steak. It sparks a warm feeling in your chest.
MP Tch. Don't talk like it's already over.
MP C'mon. Grab a bigger plate. The sides are getting cold.
They're not. Nothing stays cold for long with him around.
THE END
(Ending 11/20: Hearth)
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