[SE] honey i'm taking no orders

Dantalion

how the fuck am I supposed to know

"Listen, I didn't know we only had one real cook in the place," Danta is complaining to Astaroth as they barge their way down one of the corridors to the Dusklight's kitchens. The Maverick looks uncharacteristically harried this afternoon, a streak of flour on his cheek and his arms laden with a crate of ingredients; sugar, jam, eggs, butter, as well as an assortment of nuts, extracts and spices. "It's a brothel. Most people aren't here for the food," he points out.

But when said single cook decides to come down with the flu and calls in sick, they certainly notice the difference. And whilst one of his underlings (who demanded to be called a chef until Danta had levelled him with a withering look) is picking up the slack, things are a little more chaotic than usual in the Dusklight. Hence why the brothel's owner is now playing runaround errand boy, and has of course roped in his head of security as well. (If Danta has to suffer, so do you, Asta).

Arriving at the kitchens and shouldering his way inside, he deposits the ingredients down just in time to see one of the staff go sliding across the floor on some spilled water. At least that's funny.

if we're in love or if we're in pain?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //

“Of course, darling, but they do order food often enough there that it requires someone to put it together, no? Perhaps evaluating whether we need a second is important?” And simply based on some of their workers, he wouldn’t trust anything that comes out of their minds for meals. (He knows he’s probably the least picky person, given his usual fare, but he does have standards either way). And while his arms are also full of varying items that Danta couldn’t carry (a few fruits still good from Leafchange, some preserves that Danta couldn’t hold onto, and a bottle of sweet spiced cider to help make it feel a bit more festive despite the chaos), he’s quick on his lover’s heels to enter the kitchen.

Dressed down as much as he can be, flour adorns him too and the cozy knitted sweater that’s rolled up to his elbows, and given there’s such a huge task at hand he doesn’t even particularly seem to care much about it. Ah, but he lifts his head in time to watch the worker slide across the kitchen, enough time for him to puff out a sound akin to a laugh under his breath before he’s turning away to brush his hair back out of his face, leaving streaks of white amongst the dark locks, giving him a rather foxy appearance. “Alright, darling, everyone likes desserts, yes?” He hums his question as he moves to wash his hands and collect a couple of baking pans and bowls, telling Mr. Chef to be his own errand boy in collecting bowls for him to mix things into, before the butcher is focusing back on Danta.

“I have an idea.” His shark toothed grin is aimed impossibly bright at his lover as he reaches around him to snag the sugar.

Astaroth

// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //

Dantalion

how the fuck am I supposed to know

Similarly delighted by the worker sliding across the kitchen, Danta's head has cocked to the side to enjoy the full trip, and he wisely utilises his dart! magic to cross the wet spot out of the way before reaching out for his fire to start to dry the floor properly. In the meantime, it appears, Asta has decided to take matters into his own hands - and fine, he has a good point about hiring a second cook for the kitchens, Danta making a mental note to tell Kiada get it done.

"You like desserts," he corrects gently, though the nod of his head suggests that yes, Asta is correct, and odds are good that any sweet special they come up with is guaranteed to sell out as the day goes on, especially if it's paired with something warm and festive and alcoholic. "An idea though, you say? Don't tell me you bake, Asta." While there's teasing in his tone, Danta can't not look a little starstruck at the sight of the butcher in his sweater with his flour dusted hair, pottering around the kitchens and ordering the staff to do his bidding.

"Say more things. What do you need?"

if we're in love or if we're in pain?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //

“Two things are capable of being correct simultaneously.” Asta fires back in a playfully haughty tone, tail flicking behind him in amusement as he beams his smile over toward his lover now drying the floor. And by the time he’s finished drying his hands and collecting the sugar as he watches the underlings go and collect the required bowls, an amused lilt has grown to his smile when he levels it affectionately toward the Maverick. “I do not make a habit of it, but I do know a couple of things.” His horned head tilts slightly before he settles at the work station, snagging flour next and baking powder,

Humming a thoughtful note, he glances to the nuts and jams brought down, before his honey dark gaze lifts back to his lover. “Would you prefer to chop almonds for me?” the request is made even as he’s thinking of a couple other things in case it doesn’t strike his fancy. “Also I would like for you to pick three of your favorite jams.” They have brought down plenty of options, after all.

Astaroth

// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //

Dantalion

how the fuck am I supposed to know

"Mmhm," Danta drawls right back, smirking and ensuring the floor is no longer a slipping hazard before he puts himself out of the way of the staff beginning to flit around Asta while he puts together his workstation. "Let me guess - did you learn this particular skill on your jaunts around Caido?" he wonders with a raise of his eyebrows, genuinely curious despite his gentle ribbing.

He hasn't expected to be dragged into it, of course, the Maverick furrowing his brow even as his hands automatically move to get the almonds out of the crate of supplies. "I can do that," he says, almost suspiciously, then turns back to the crate to pull out a couple of jars of preserves - and something else as well. "Alright - on a scale of the things I would like to lick off your body, these three are top."

And he sets them down - an apricot jam, a strawberry preserve, and a chocolate spread. "Will they suffice?" he wonders with a grin, pushing up the sleeves of his own shirt and grabbing a knife and a chopping board to go about ruining some almonds.

if we're in love or if we're in pain?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //

A second bowl is acquired alongside a few utensils drawn from the drawer beneath him. “I did, in fact.” He seems to beam with the question, even as his smile is slanted the blonde’s way. “It turns out you can make plenty of friends if you know what their favorite preserves are.” And pretty much everyone likes cookies and if they didn’t, well, it was obviously their loss.

He snags some salt and barks to an underling to grab the eggs, milk, and butter, before he’s letting his gaze land back on Danta when the jams are picked. “Lovely choices, darling.” He says around the chuckle that leaves him with the reasons they were picked. And as Danta gets to work with the almonds, Astaroth has nearly gotten every ingredient ready. He snags some vanilla extract and finally sets in to work, using a spatula to start to cream together the sugar and butter in the bowl, getting it smooth before he cracks an egg into it deftly, mixing it in with surprising ease. It may be one of the only things he knows how to bake from scratch, but he works with all the confidence of a baker of many years.

“How are the almonds coming along?” He asks as he glances up at Danta before measuring out the milk and vanilla to mix again shortly before that portion is complete and he can work on the dry ingredients.

Astaroth

// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //

Dantalion

how the fuck am I supposed to know

"Oh? You always struck me as the lone wolf sort. Didn't realise that you had a plethora of friends outside The Climb," Danta says with a smirk, keeping one eye on the butcher as he barks his orders to the staff and gets together the ingredients and equipment he needs. The entire kitchen seems to have fallen into a more comfortable rhythm already - clearly Asta's approach to leading and instructing is quite similar to the flu-ridden chef, and the underlings quickly understand and fall in line.

"Mm, I thought so too," he purrs at his choices, despite still having no idea why he'd selected them if it wasn't to lick them off Asta's torso (and lower, if he got his way). But there are almonds to chop, and gods if Danta doesn't almost take his fingers with them once or twice with the way his gaze keeps drifting back towards Asta. The butcher works as if he's done the work all his life, the confidence of his movements and in his hands one that he's only ever seen when he's flaying skin from bone.

Clearing his throat as he realises he's been addressed, he gestures to the roughly chopped almonds. "Didn't know if you wanted them finer than this...? I can keep going," he offers.

if we're in love or if we're in pain?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //

Humming a laugh as he works, Asta nods his head, enough that one of the white dusted locks falls into his face. “I am, darling. But you know as well as I that it matters who you are close…ish to, no? However else would I have learned how to dance and dress myself properly?” He shoots back at Danta with another bright, shark toothed grin, tail waving behind him in a comfortable rhythm as he works and tries not to notice the way he’s distracting Danta simply by this baking adventure.

As he starts to put together the dry ingredients, he pauses to step over and inspect the almonds, hands dusted with flour that reach up to cup his jaw gently and leave a handprint behind. “They are perfect.” Pressing his forehead to Danta’s briefly, he withdraws back to the bowl of dry ingredients, measuring out the baking powder to add to the flour and adds a little bit of salt. Mixing that until it’s thorough, the butcher begins to incorporate the dry mixture into the wet, slowly enough to be able to mix it in without any lumps to find their way in.

His tail slips over toward his lover, winding around his leg with a soft tug to invite him closer as the mix begins to make it all the way together, enough for him to start rolling them into one inch balls. “Now, would you be so kind as to roll these in the almonds? And when you place them on the sheet, press your thumb into them to create a small divot such as this—” He shows him how to do it with the current dough mixture in his hand, sans almonds. He holds it in his palm and presses his thumb in just enough to create that space they can put the jams in later. Then, rolling it back up, he starts to create the pile for Danta to get started.

Astaroth

// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //

Dantalion

how the fuck am I supposed to know

It's probably the most domestic thing they've ever done together, Danta smiling to himself as he realises and relaxing into the space a little more, even as the rest of the kitchen buzzes and flits around them. "Mm, alright, that is a good point. A shame all this time has passed, honestly. I'd like to send a thank you note to the person who taught you to dress this well." And dance, he adds privately, even if he's only ever been caught in one drunken slow-dance with the butcher last season.

Caught suddenly in flour-tipped fingers, Danta flashes a brief, fanged smile in the butcher's direction, reaching up to tuck the lock of dark hair back behind his horns as their foreheads touch. "Clearly I was born to chop almonds," he purrs, leaving the flour on his face and turning back to the board and the nuts, putting the ones he hasn't needed back into the crate to put away later - which is about when he's being jostled closer by a tail around his leg.

"Hm?" Stepping up beside the other man willingly, close enough to feel the heat rippling from his body, Danta watches - and listens - before inclining his head. "I think I can just about manage that," he says, demonstrating with one of the dough balls, almonds and divot and all, before setting it down on the baking sheet. "I think I am starting to understand what the jams are for."

if we're in love or if we're in pain?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //

“It is a shame, indeed.” He agrees, a touch nostalgic for the centuries gone and the changes that had come with the passing of time. Even though some things remained the same, such as these treats they’re working on, it isn’t all sad things to think about. Because centuries ago the butcher that stands here forehead to forehead with the Maverick in such domestic bliss would have been an impossible thought. An embarrassment. Horribly terrifying.

Yet here they are, as he ushers his lover to his side to help him place the dough into the sheets. It takes time to roll them in the almonds and place them and make the divot, so Asta focuses on making the pile for Danta to work with before he snags a cloth from a passing unfeeling, plucking it deftly from his shoulder as he rushes by. “Mhmm. They will be absolutely divine. Typically I would enjoy them with tea or cider, something else relatively sweet, but I am sure our patrons could find other creative uses for them.” He bounces a brow as he realizes he brought cider down, and busies himself snagging two glasses from behind them to pop the lid off of the cider to pour them both a healthy amount, waiting for his lover to be finished so that they can start loading up the divots with the three different preserves.

Astaroth

// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //

Dantalion

how the fuck am I supposed to know

Unlike his lover, Danta's thoughts are very much on the here and now, his brow furrowed in concentration as he continues to make the cookies until he's filled a large sheet with them - and another after that. Enough, certainly, to provide something for hungry patrons to nibble on while they wait for whatever the rest of the kitchen is up to. (And thankfully Mr. Chef seems to be back in control now, no doubt because of a certain butcher's steadfast presence).

"Don't say that - I'm already imagining the places they'll try to put them." Smirkng to himself and stepping back to wash his hands once he's finished with the cookies, the Maverick turns to find Asta with two glasses of cider. "And here I was feeling all flustered just a few minutes ago." Chuckling and reaching out for one of the glasses, he clinks it against Asta's and takes a grateful sip. "You've a knack for calming down a stressful situation, you know."

if we're in love or if we're in pain?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //

The butcher can only agree with that sentiment, even if Danta would find it amusing versus the horror that Astaroth would likely imagine when it came to where exactly the patrons would end up putting these cookies. At any rate, at least it would give them something in their stomachs to compliment the alcohol or whatever else (and whomever else) they’re indulging in.

The butcher himself indulges in clinking his glass with the Maverick’s, flashing him a soothing yet still just as sharp and dangerous smile. “Are you feeling better now, darling?” He asks, bouncing a dark brow flecked with flour before he takes a sip of the cider once the question has left his lips, swallowing down the sweet apple, pear, and cinnamon cider. “The net only gets more tangled the more the fish thrash, wouldn’t you agree?” Tipping a wink, the butcher has grown bolder in his affections and ability to show it (though a lot of it is given the season, one that reverts parts of him toward claiming comfort and warmth, hence the floury sweater he wears), and he leans in and steals a chaste kiss as the underlings flit around.

Withdrawing far too shortly, he sets the glass down to pluck one of the jams (strawberry it seems from the color within the glass), and withdraws two spoons – one for Danta and one for himself. “Pick which you wish to start with.” A quiet and playful demand, before he bends over the counter and the trays a little to put the jam into the divots Danta had so lovingly created.

Astaroth

// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //

Dantalion

how the fuck am I supposed to know

"Much better, thank you," Danta purrs, taking another sip of cider and seeming utterly at ease with being covered in flour; then again, he's ever been the more chaotic of the two of them in that way. "I..." It takes a second for him to put together the metaphor Asta paints (and for a moment he glances towards the cookies as if expecting them to have turned into flopping fish), and by the time he's looking back to the butcher he finds his lips claimed by a warm, sweet kiss.

Breathless despite how quick and chaste the affections had been, and finding himself warmed by much more than the cider, Danta can only blink after Asta as he settles against the counter to fill their cookies with jam. "You are on very thin ice, you know," he rumbles in an amused whisper towards the other man, reaching for the chocolate spread and accepting the spoon before sidling up beside him once more.

"I never realised I wanted to fuck you in a kitchen until today, you know."

if we're in love or if we're in pain?

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

// as long as there's bread and as long as there's an appetite //

A hum is all the you’re welcome Danta gets, not that Asta imagines the Maverick would complain. Not when he’s busy putting together the metaphor and the butcher is sidling up precisely at a perfect time to snatch his gaze (and breath) away. Withdrawing with a knowing grin, the butcher returns to his task, only to feel the warmth from the Maverick as he sidles up beside him to get to work too – a hum of a laugh leaving him in a slight question as he turns slightly toward his lover to raise his brow. “Am I?”

Something tells him before Danta speaks next he knows precisely what it is he’s on thin ice about, but he can’t help but to be his typical arrogant self in spite of it. Placing a dollop of strawberry preserves into the center of the next cookie he’s moved onto, he lets a warm chuckle slip past his lips. “Perhaps that can be arranged before our sick chef returns and the staff have gone to bed?” His voice drops a touch, playful in spite of it before his dark gaze flits toward his lover with a playful smirk.

Because yes, he’s got to plan those things when there isn’t extenuating circumstances (like sexy Frey demigods wandering about).

“Also, it is a good thing I am used to being on thin ice. I am from Whitebrim, after all.” It ends in an almost playful sing song tone, quiet and whispered, letting his accent trail over the words playfully as he adds another drop of strawberry into the next cookie in line.

Astaroth

// as long as everyone you need is stepping in line, you are camouflaged //