Work Text:
“Owen! Let’s go make some pancakes!” You’re bent down so you’re at eye level with the grown man who’s sitting cross-legged in the grass, petting and cooing at a trembling sheep in his lap. You can’t help but feel pity for the little lamb, considering, well, everything Owen is normally.
His bizarre injury has struck yet again and he’s somehow gotten ahold of one of Lennox’s sheep. You know that Lennox will be here soon to retrieve it, leaving a chance for Owen’s secret to be revealed.
You have to get him out of here, fast, so you’re trying to bait him the only way you know how: with sweets.
“Pancakes…?” Owen looks up from the sheep, eyes filled with childish sparkle that seems so odd on the face of the normally cold Northern wizard. It makes you want to ruffle his hair but you think you’d scare him off if you did that.
“Yes, pancakes!” You nod enthusiastically and hold your hand out to him. “We can put sweet fruit and whipped cream on top too!”
“Really?!” He breaks out into a dazzling smile. Despite it being because of his injury, seeing a genuine smile like that on Owen’s handsome face makes you feel happy and… Did your heart just skip a beat?
He stands up and walks over to grab your hand, not minding the poor sheep tumbling to the ground. Thankfully, its massive amount of wool absorbs the impact. You watch as it bounces harmlessly in the grass before it stands up, shakes itself off and bounds off. You silently thank whatever gods are out there because you don’t think you could bring yourself to explain to Lennox why one of his sheep got injured.
Owen holds your hand tightly as you lead him to the manor’s kitchen, as if he’s scared of being separated from you.
Unsurprisingly, Nero is in the kitchen when you get there.
“Sage-sama? And… Owen too?” He seems surprised to see you, and even more surprised to see Owen. You see his eyebrows raise when his eyes travel to your joint hands. You’re sure he’s assuming a lot of things at the moment and the fact that Owen appears to be hiding behind you from him isn’t helping matters.
You quickly start speaking before he can ask you what’s wrong with Owen. “It’s good you’re here Nero. Actually I promised I’d make Owen some sweets so I could use your help with the ingredients…”
Nero helps you find the ingredients and equipment you need before quickly excusing himself from the kitchen. You think you can hear him mutter something along the lines of “I don’t want to see Owen eat ever again” on his way out.
Now, you wouldn’t call yourself a ‘master chef’ but you know your way around a kitchen. You’ve tried making those soufflé pancakes that were all the rage back home before and they’ve turned out decent enough so you’re sure it’ll be fine this time.
You ditch your jacket and roll up the sleeves of your shirt. Time to get to work!
Owen perches himself on the kitchen counter next to you, something you’re sure Nero wouldn’t be happy about, and watches you curiously as you work. His legs swing back and forth and he seems totally engrossed with your baking Occasionally, he asks you questions as you add in ingredients. He’s being so well-behaved you even let him sift in the dry ingredients.
When you get to the meringue making stage, you lament the lack of electrical whisks in this world as you feel your arm ache from the constant whisking. You whisk and whisk until it’s stiff, the perfect consistency.
Not to blow your own horn or anything but it looks really nice, you did a good job… You deserve a reward for working that hard…
You quickly dollop a little onto the back of your hand. You’re about to lick it off when a cold hand shoots out and wraps around your wrist. Owen pulls your hand towards his mouth and you watch in surprise as his tongue flicks out and licks your hand clean.
“Owen, what are-?”
“It’s not sweet enough.” You’re cut off by him. The innocent, childish tone of voice and expressions he had earlier were gone, replaced by his usual cold airs. “What are you doing?”
“Ah…” You start running your mouth nervously, a bit flustered at the sudden change in demeanour and the lingering feeling of warmth on the back of your hand. “Your injury came and you were playing with Lennox’s sheep. He got close to figuring it out before so it’d be bad if he came and saw you like that again. I promised to make you pancakes to get you away… Um, I’ve already started but if you want to leave now I understand...”
“I want to eat it.”
“What?”
“I’ll stay. I want to eat it.”
Well, you should’ve figured Owen would never turn down sweets.
“Oh! Okay then!”
You’re about to ask if he wants to help you again but he floats up from his seat on the counter and plops himself down into one of the chairs at the dining table. He stares at you. His mismatched eyes seem to be urging you to hurry up and finish. He must really want to eat your pancakes, you think, and the thought alone brings a smile to your face
You cover your smile with your hand as you quickly turn back around and continue working, hoping Owen hadn’t noticed. You can feel Owen’s stare boring into your back but you ignore it as best you can.
Once you’ve got the pancakes cooking on the stove, you turn your attention to making whipped cream. Once again, you wish there were such things as electric whisks in this world.
“Put more sugar in.” says Owen who’s right by your ear suddenly. Without you noticing, he’s come over and is peering over your shoulders.
“Owen?!” you shriek, jumping away from him. You’re so surprised, your grip loosens on the bowl and falls to the floor. You watch in horror, paralysed, as it gets closer to smashing on the tiles but just before it gets there, it freezes. It hovers in midair for a second before it floats up and towards Owen.
He grins at you like the cat who got the cream (quite literally in this case) and makes a motion like he’s about to stick his hand into the bowl. You lurch forward and grab his hand.
“No, bad!” Immediately after saying those words, you feel yourself get embarrassed. First you compare him to a cat and then you talk to him like a dog… Isn’t that actually really rude of you to do to a centuries old wizard?
Owen looks irritated, whether it’s at being stopped or from being talked to like that, you don’t know. He jerks his hand out of yours.
“Um… It’s not ready yet!” You start talking just to save the mood, before he gets more irritated at you and disappears. “It still needs more mixing! It’s better to just wait…”
Odd eyes stare into yours and then… the whisk in the bowl starts stirring by itself. You briefly wonder if he would’ve done this from the start if you’d have asked. Nevertheless, you’re surprised Owen would help you out of his own volition and you say as much.
“What’s that supposed to mean…? You’re really rude.”
“Ah… I’m sorry…” You smile at him sheepishly. “Well, thank you for doing that anyways! I’ll start cutting up the fruit then. Do you have anything you want specifically?”
“Blueberries.” He says immediately. “And strawberries.”
You assure him you’ll make sure to prepare those for him but first you have to check on the pancakes. You tentatively shimmy your spatula under and… feel no resistance. Perfect. You flip them over and continue letting them cook.
As you’re cutting the fruit, you’re struck with an idea.
“Owen.” You call out, holding out half a strawberry. He leans forward with no hesitation and plucks it from your fingers with his mouth. You can’t help but admire how he manages to look cool even when doing something like that. It’s like something out of a shoujo manga. You kinda want to pat him on the head. “You did a good job. That should be enough now!”
He puts down the bowl and returns to his seat, though not before scooping out a large chunk of the whipped cream, much to your chagrin.
You take extra care in plating up the pancakes. You only made three so you give Owen two and most of the cream and fruit too.
“Bon app étit!” you say jokingly, setting Owen’s plate in front of him. By the time you’ve sat down yourself, he’s already halfway through one pancake. You watch in fascination as he wolfs down the rest of it. Within minutes, he’s left the plate basically spotless which is equal parts impressive and terrifying. As soon as he’s finished, he locks eyes with your untouched plate.
“You can have it.” You say, sliding it across the table. You can really emphasise with Nero now, you’ve thoroughly lost any appetite after watching Owen eat. He digs in without delay.
“Is it good?”
“No, it’s horrible.”
You’d be hurt if it were anyone else saying that but, since it’s Owen, you don’t take much heed of his blunt words.
The kitchen is quiet, save for the clinking of cutlery against the plate and you start zoning out. You’re kind of glad Owen seems to be enjoying it anyways. Before, back home, you never really had anyone to cook for so it’s nice to see someone else enjoying something you’ve made. You wouldn’t mind doing something like this again.
“Sage.” Owen says. He’s appeared next to you without you noticing again. This time, though, you absolutely do not jump. Nope, not at all. Owen just looks amused. Well, you think he does anyway, it’s always hard to tell with him.
“You have cream there.” He points at your face in a very unhelpful way.
“Huh…?” You use the back of your hand to scrub around your mouth but when you look, there seems to be nothing rubbed off onto your hand. “There’s nothing…?”
“No. It’s there. See.” he says simply and then he leans down close to you and…
There’s a sensation of something warm and wet running up your cheek. Did… Owen just lick you again?
He pulls back and licks his lips, and you watch as they turn upwards into his signature smirk at whatever face you’re making.
“Sweet.” he says, a hint of a teasing lilt to his voice, and then he disappears into smoke.
Ignoring the loud beating of your heart and the burning of your cheeks, you start to clear the table.
You’re happy Owen seems to be warming up to you more.