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Chapter Text

Chakrika has always loved cooking. Born in India to an Indian mother and British father, cooking was ingrained in her from a young age and she felt most at home when she was adding spices to homemade curries and expertly making rotis. Cooking has always been fun, but cooking with Jonny has been one of her favourite things since they became friends. When Jonny is in the kitchen he often regresses even more to the child he becomes when he returns home to his parents’ house for Friday night dinner, but that is a side of Jonny that Chakrika absolutely adores. She can’t believe the man-child she spends so much time with can actually hold down a serious job as an estate agent. She finds it even harder to understand how sweet and sensitive he can be when he wants to be, vulnerability isn't something she thought she would associate with him. Jonny is a terrible cook, his version of homemade is to add pre-cooked meat to store-bought cheese pizzas, but his enthusiasm for being in the kitchen is infectious. In fact, his enthusiasm is the reason Chakrika spends more time in the kitchen of his parents’ house than her own family’s. It’s the reason she eats at his flat at least twice a week, letting herself in with the spare key he gifted her and occasionally surprising him by beating him home from work and having dinner already cooking for him. She doesn’t think she’ll ever admit her feelings for him to anyone, still struggling to admit them to herself, but it’s also one of the many reasons she fell for him.

Cooking has always been something Jonny knows he is terrible at. His mother had tried to teach him on more than one occasion, constantly begging him to help her out in the kitchen when he was younger, but appearances used to mean a lot to Jonny and he wouldn’t let his older brother see him hanging out with his mum, cutting up vegetables and stirring sauces for her. Every Friday he returns home to his parents’ house, usually with his best friend in tow, and whilst he naturally regresses to the child that loves to put salt in his brother’s drink and call him the nickname he has used for as long as he can remember, he is at his most child-like when he is in the kitchen. He can’t resist jumping up to sit on the counters, squirting cream directly from the can into his mouth and picking at the crumble his mother has lovingly made. Lately he’s also taken a liking to being in his own kitchen. It’s nowhere near as big as his parents’ kitchen, and sometimes he wonders if perhaps one day he could have a nice house with a big kitchen where his family can come to him for dinner. Of course it helps that Chakrika is now part of his life. Her cooking almost rivals his mother’s. Sometimes they cook dinner together, him hindering more than helping, other times he sits on the counters and watches her dance around his kitchen, but regardless, the same thought always pops into his head. It’s a thought that scares him shitless, and one he is never going to admit to anyone. He knows he has fallen for his best friend. He also knows she is way out of his league and he doesn’t stand a chance with her. It doesn’t however stop him imagining coming home after work every night to eat dinner with her before cuddling up on the sofa and watching movies. Those things already happen a couple of times a week, but the last one, his secret longing to crawl into bed with her and snuggle under the covers, is a secret he’ll keep to himself.

Chapter Text

Chakrika and Jonny both remember the first meal they cooked together, a meal that had, by all accounts, been an unmitigated disaster. Despite the fact it had been inedible, and definitely hadn’t impressed the girl he had been cooking for, it remains one of his favourites. It was that meal, in his opinion, that cemented his and Chakrika’s friendship. It also remains one of Chakrika’s favourite meals. She tells herself it’s because Jonny finally expressed an interest in her favourite pastime, but she refuses to admit that it’s because his date left early and he spent the night huddled up on the sofa with her instead.   

He had begged her to teach him a couple of simple dishes to impress a girl he’d met at work. Jonny remembers putting on his cutest smile and puppy-dog eyes to win Chakrika over. Chakrika remembers him looking adorably pathetic.

“Please Chakrie, I told her I’m a foodie.”

“Do you even know what a foodie is?” She chuckled and quirked a sceptical eyebrow.

The look of annoyance in his eyes didn’t hide the fact he clearly didn’t. “Will you help me or not?”

She sighed but nodded. “Fine, I’ll come over to your place after work tomorrow. I’ll finish early.”

“Thank you. Make sure they’re simple recipes.” He had seen her style of cooking, it involved way too many pots, pans and spices that he couldn’t pronounce the names of.

“Foodies would cook something a bit more refined.” She shot him a pointed look, trying not to smile.

“I can barely crack an egg.” There was no humour in his voice.

“That’s true.” It was clear he wanted to impress the girl he had invited over, and she was too good a friend to let him down, so she found herself telling him, “I’ll cook the meal and leave you instructions on how to reheat it. I’ll leave you the recipes in case she asks how you made it.”

“Seriously?” The hope in his eyes was utterly pathetic, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Yeah. You owe me.”

As promised, she had arrived after work with several bags of shopping and a notebook containing the recipes and reheating instructions. Jonny remembers her loading up her Spotify and telling him that she worked better to music. Chakrika remembers him teasing her about her singing as she had danced around the small kitchen in his flat.

“Ab se koi khushi nahi. Jiski tum wajah nahi. Ab se koi din nahi. Jiski tum subah nahi. Ab se koi baat nahi. Jo tumse na hogi shuru. Ab se koi raah nahi. Jo tum sang main na mudhoon. Abhi ke abhi yeh ho gaya yakin. Yeh zindagi meri ho gayi teri. Abhi ke abhi yeh ho gaya yakin. Yeh zindagi meri ho gayi teri. Tumse hi tumse, har baat, har baat hai. Jab tum ho saath. Tumse hi tumse, har baat, har baat hain. Jab tum ho saath.” Chakrika danced around the kitchen, adding onions to the pan she was cooking with as she sang along to the music blaring from her phone.

“I can’t understand a word you’re saying.” Jonny shot her a pointed look.

You don’t need to.” She stuck her tongue out.

Jumping up to sit on the counter, he yawned and pretended to be uninterested. When she turned her back to him however, he affectionately smiled and carefully watched her add some tomato paste and spices.

So, what time is your girlfriend coming over?” She glanced back over her shoulder.  

“She isn’t my girlfriend…yet.”

“Well, I’m fairly confident she will be after she’s tasted one of my amazing curries.” Her wink sent a whole array of inappropriate thoughts through Jonny’s head.

“You mean one of my amazing curries.” The smirk on his lips should have pissed Chakrika off, on anyone else it would have done, but on Jonny she found it quite endearing.

“You want to say you’ve made this?” He mutely nodded and she held out a spoon. “The least you can do is stir this while I make the samosas.”

“Fine.” He dramatically sighed but jumped down from the counter and walked over to her. Nudging her out of the way, he plucked the spoon from her fingers and started to stir the pasty mixture in the pan.  

It took them a couple of hours to finish the whole meal, or rather for Chakrika to finish the meal as Jonny occasionally stirred things and ate the offcuts and leftovers. Eventually the food had been decanted into various plastic containers, which Chakrika had brought with her, not trusting her best friend to have anything of any use, and Chakrika had shown herself out of his flat after wishing him good luck.

Emily had arrived at seven thirty, as planned, and Jonny had attempted to charm her by offering her cocktails, which he had hastily and rather haphazardly thrown together. That was his first mistake. He had worked his way through two of the lethal concoctions before realising he hadn’t actually put the starter in to reheat. His second mistake was turning the oven up too high and completely cremating said starter. After that came the overcooking of the butter chicken that Chakrika had put so much effort into. Emily had chewed the same piece of chicken for far too long, before discreetly spitting it into her napkin and excusing herself to use his bathroom. They didn’t even make it to dessert, which is just as well, as Jonny accidentally left the kulfi out of the freezer when he took it out to get to the ice. Emily had cracked a filling on the overly-crisp rotis before telling Jonny that she didn’t like liars and leaving.

Jonny remembers calling Chakrika and telling her it had been a disaster. He’s pretty sure he probably cried a little bit down the phone too, not out of sadness, but out of embarrassment and frustration. Chakrika remembers turning up on his doorstep with a pizza, a bottle of wine and a sympathetic smile that told him it would all be okay.  

Glancing at him from her spot on the sofa, she picked up another slice of pizza and asked, “Did you read any of the instructions I left you?”

“Yes.” Sipping at his wine, he rolled his eyes. “I had a few cocktails and got my temperatures and timings wrong.”

“And the kulfi?”

“Accidentally left it out of the freezer.” Leaning back into the sofa cushions, he twisted his neck to look at her and laughed. “It wouldn’t have worked out between us anyway.”

“No?”

“No. She wasn’t that much fun to talk to.”

“She prefer sirloin steak to pizza?” Jonny mutely nodded. “Bet she hated your cocktails too, didn’t she?” Again Jonny nodded. “Mate, you really were punching above your weight there.” She couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I know. It won’t happen again.”

“It probably will.”  

“It definitely will.” He shot her a rueful smile. “I can’t help it, I feel the need to lie to impress people.”

She finished eating the slice of pizza she had started earlier, before wiping her fingers on a napkin and throwing it into the bin across the room, silently patting herself on the back when it landed in the centre. She then shuffled across the sofa to close the gap between them, and laid her head on his shoulder. “Well, luckily for you Boo…” She trailed off with a yawn and Jonny had to grin at the nickname only she used for him, a shortened version of his mother’s ‘Jonny-Boo’.

“Luckily for me what?”

“Luckily for you, I’m your friend despite the bullshit you come out with. You can pick the movie, seeing as your all sad and whatnot.”

Resting his arm along the back of the sofa, he picked up the remote control. “I’m not sad any more.”

“Debatable.” He didn’t need to see the smirk, he heard it in her voice.

“Very funny. Fancy cooking me another curry tomorrow night?”

“Yeah, alright then.”

The following night she had cooked him a curry after work, she had also stayed to share it with him. Jonny remembers asking her that night to always be his best friend. Chakrika remembers promising to be.