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“I’ve let you treat my wounds in my moments of weakness, and you know very well that I would put my life in your hands without a single doubt. I would jump off a building for you and trust you with my secrets. But if there is one thing I do not trust you with, darling–” Kieran met her gaze. “–that’s the stove.”
Lauren scoffed at him, leaning forwards to set her elbows on the counter. “You are being dramatic.”
“Oh, am I?” Kieran widened his eyes with an amused scoff. “Should we revisit the eggs incident of last week?”
“We agreed to not talk about those eggs again,” Lauren glared at him, which prompted him to laugh as he unloaded the bags of groceries. Lauren stood and went over to help, and much to her obvious satisfaction, he allowed her that. As she began washing the vegetables, she murmured: “I mean, it’s just cooking, how hard can it be?”
Kieran scoffed, throwing her a sidelong glance. “Very. Especially for someone who hasn’t had the need to cook her meals ever in her life.”
“Alright, fair point,” she sighed, dutifully scrubbing the dirt off the potatoes he had bought. Kieran frowned at the movement of her fingers. Her hands remained as soft as one would expect from a noblewoman’s, save for the calluses on the side of her middle finger and on the pointer, product of shooting, of course. He had been surprised when they first had touched hands at this fact, and he didn’t want her hands to get damaged during however long they had to stay in hiding.
With a sigh of his own, Kieran looked around the little suite that housed the two vigilantes at the moment. After the glass factory blew up, they had had to flee Ardhalis with only rudimentary first aid applied to their wounds, hurriedly cleaning up and changing their clothes before they were boarding the first train they found and letting it take them as far as possible. They had tended to each other in their cabin during the ride, and once they deemed it far enough, left the train and embarked on a different one. A few rides after that hopefully eliminated their trails, they arrived at a seaside town and made it to the inn. It was as good as they were going to get, especially when they were short on money, severely injured, and exhausted, so they took the room the elderly couple that managed the place offered them without much refutal. It was a little place with a wide window with a nice view of the sea, its own bathroom, and a kitchenette. They also had a double bed, a dresser, and a tiny circular table with two wooden chairs.
It wasn’t much, but honestly, it was way more than he had expected to find.
If someone had told him a few weeks before that he would be living in the same room as Lauren he would’ve told them it was impossible. If they had also told him he would sleep in the same bed as her, he would’ve laughed at the ridiculous statement and urged them to go look for something better to do than waste his time. It hadn’t even hit him when they were hastily collecting their things from their respective places before the APD could get to them. Only when they had stepped foot into the inn did he realize the implications of this impromptu getaway, and he had to come up with an alibi on the spot. The best he could come up with was that they were newlyweds looking for a place to stay for a couple of weeks.
Despite giving him a nasty glare for the excuse he had given, Lauren refused to have him sleeping on the floor when he was as or even more injured than her. She had claimed that there was no necessity to be so hesitant about such a thing as sleeping in the same bed since they weren’t teenagers and she trusted him, and that had been that.
Kieran snapped back to reality, putting the paper bags away. Lauren was almost done washing the produce, so he started sorting through the vegetables to grab what he’d need for their meal today before he put the rest away in a basket the owners had lent them along with a couple of other kitchen tools. They were lucky the couple and their relatives were friendly people that had quickly taken a liking to their newest tenants.
He watched as she started organizing the rest of the groceries, huffing a little laugh.
“What’s with your sudden interest in cooking, anyway?” he asked, meeting her eyes as she picked up the salt and pepper containers. “You don’t seem like the type to be so diligent with household chores. I mean no offense by that.”
“I know you don’t,” she muttered, deciding to leave the condiments in one of the little drawers. “It’s not that I am particularly attracted to them, see… I just don’t want to leave you doing all the things alone.”
He tilted his head. “But I’m not doing it all alone. You’re doing most of the cleaning of the space.”
“Yes, but there’s not much to clean here if you haven’t noticed,” Lauren gestured to their spaces. Kieran clicked his tongue in agreement. Only the bed got constantly undone, and the rest got resolved with some quick sweeping.
“I don’t mind doing the cooking,” he shrugged. “I’ve had to cook for myself for a long time. Doing an extra serving is easy.”
Lauren groaned, rubbing her face. “I just want to help out more. It drives me insane to not be doing things, and there’s not much to do around here anyway, and, again, I don’t want to leave you to do everything alone.”
“That’s true…” he looked around the space. “You want to do more… How about this: I do the cooking, you clean the dishes. We each do our own laundry, but you can put it away in the drawers. And I’ll clean the bathroom. Sounds good?”
Lauren stared at him for a moment, seemingly in deep thought, before sighing and nodding. “Okay, I suppose that’s good.”
“Perfect!” Kieran clapped once, stepping in front of their tiny stove with the ingredients he’d need. “Now move along, darling, this stew won’t cook itself.”
“You’re making stew?”
“Only for you,” he winked at her, earning a roll of her eyes. Kieran examined the portion of beef he had bought, trying to do quick mental math as he asked: “Should I make enough for dinner too? How do you feel about repeating meals?”
“I don’t mind,” Lauren shrugged. “If it’s gonna last until the evening, go ahead.”
“It’ll help us save up,” he stated, rolling his sleeves to his elbows under her scrutinizing gaze and then remaking the bun holding his hair back. She continued to watch him as he went to wash his hands in the bathroom, leaning against the counter with her eyes taking in everything he was doing, and he waited for her to say something. When he was back at the kitchenette and taking the cutting board the owners had lent them she finally spoke:
“I still wish I knew how to do it,” she admitted, brushing her finger pads over the counter. “I know you don’t mind doing it and all, but like… It would be a useful skill if I was alone.”
Kieran eyed her for a good minute, taking in her pensive expression and relaxed posture. He had found out many things about her in their time living together, and shining through right now was the fact that she hated feeling useless, even if it was in something she was hopeless in. He knew that out of pure determination (or, rather, stubbornness) she would continue to try cooking despite his reassurances that he could handle it. The incident with the eggs last week had ended up being more hilarious than dangerous, but her bull-headed attitude would drive her to keep trying stuff she knew nothing about, and he didn’t want her to get hurt.
That sparked an idea in him. He wondered if that’s what she had wanted the entire time but had been too prideful to directly request.
“Do you want me to teach you?”
Her face lit up almost immediately. “Would you?”
He smiled. “Of course,” he gestured at the hair falling on her shoulders. “But first pick all that up, and go wash your hands.”
Lauren nodded, rushing over to the bathroom as she hastily pulled her hair into a ponytail. Kieran chuckled as he heard her stumble into their tiny bathroom and dutifully wash her hands, rushing back to his side as fast as she could. An eager expression was drawn on her face, but also a little lost as she looked down at the ingredients he had laid out on the counter. Kieran slid the cutting board in front of her.
“First off, you need to get technical skills. It shouldn’t be too hard to learn with due practice,” Kieran twirled a smaller kitchen knife between his fingers, dedicating her a grin. “Can’t be harder than aiming guns at assassins’ heads, right?”
Lauren stopped the motion of his fingers with a light tap at his wrist. “Perhaps not, but I won’t learn if my teacher cuts off one of his fingers.”
“Alright, alright,” Kieran chuckled, placing the smaller knife on her cutting board and taking a bigger one for himself. He handed her the carrots. “You can start by dicing these.”
“Dicing?”
“Cutting them into small cubes,” he tapped the two carrots with a finger. “Peel them first. Can you handle that?”
“I think I can figure out how to peel carrots,” Lauren claimed, picking up one of them and starting her chore. Kieran watched as she carefully worked and in turn, he grabbed the potatoes to do his own work. His motions were much more fluid and much more confident as he peeled the potatoes, though he had to admit he had no need to do it as fast as he was, and deep inside knew he simply wanted to see the wonderment growing on her face as she watched how he chopped them into even chunks. He smiled at her as she finished with the first carrot, a surprisingly good job, and picked up the second. He was almost done with the potatoes when she piped up:
“Okay, I know this must sound so stupid, but how the hell –” she lifted one of the peeled carrots to examine it better, eyebrows tented and lips pursed. “–does one turn a conical object into cubes?”
Kieran burst out laughing, finishing up with the potatoes and taking one of her carrots. “Follow my lead,” he went for the motions slow enough for her to follow, chopping off the ends and then cutting them into smaller pieces, and Lauren followed along with him, sparing him constant glances as he did it. “You want to cut as thinly as possible here,” he signaled to the sides of the carrot. “So you make it into a rectangle, like this.”
“Oh, that makes sense,” Lauren muttered, following along. Kieran grinned, waiting for her to be done with one of the pieces before continuing.
“Then you cut it in quarters,” he cut the rectangle in half, flipped it, and cut in half again, showing her the four strips of carrot. “And then you just chop down to complete the cube.”
Lauren didn’t wait for him to do it and instead brought the knife down herself and corroborated that, indeed, there were now four little carrot cubes next to her blade. She smiled. “Okay, got it.”
“Do the rest of these then. And please mind your fingers,” he pushed the pieces back to her, and Lauren immediately continued to cut the strips into cubes, some sort of satisfied grin on her face as her pile of orange cubes grew on the corner of the cutting board.
While she did that, Kieran cut the meat and seasoned it, leaving it on the side for a second as he diced the onion and celery, and once that was done he added olive oil to the pot and threw the beef in. The sizzle made her flinch a little, taking a cautious step away from the stove as he stirred the beef and then let it cook. As the pot sizzled to his left, he grabbed a handful of mushrooms, asking: “Should we make chicken with mushrooms tomorrow?”
“I don’t think I know what you’re talking about, but sure,” she tapped the cutting board with the knife. “I finished.”
“It’s fine, we can trust my mental cookbook,” he examined her work on the carrots and smiled. “Good job. Now, here,” he passed her three cloves of garlic, pausing in his instructions to stir the meat again. “Smash them like these, and then you just–” he quickly chopped the knife back and forth over the clove. “–you do this until it’s tiny. Just don’t make it a paste.”
Kieran moved along to pile the chopped vegetables and halve the mushrooms, making sure to save enough to cook for the next day, catching from the corner of his eye the way she peered curiously at what he was doing. He hadn’t cooked with anyone before. He was lucky to be able to afford fresh food, and he enjoyed cooking, but eating had always been quite a lonely affair. He cooked for himself, and only for himself. Having someone eat something he had made, and enjoy it the way Lauren did, was uncharted territory for him, and it confused him a little too. When her face lit up with pleased surprise at whatever he had served her, it made his heart flutter with delight. Her presence next to him as they did something so mundane –so normal – like cooking, her focus on her tasks, and her gratification with every little achievement made him feel warm all inside.
“That’s not–” Kieran huffed a laugh, stopping her as she tried (and failed) to mince the garlic. “–not like that, it’s gonna take you forever.”
“I’m so sorry, Chef ,” Lauren rolled her eyes. “I’m afraid my twenty minutes of experience in your kitchen haven’t prepared me for this.”
Kieran laughed, fixing her hands’ position on the knife, curling her fingers around the handle and her palm flat on the blunt edge of the blade. “You hold it like this, and you move it like a sort of wave.”
Kieran tried to guide her, but he couldn’t reach her hands well with his current stance. Instead, he carefully circled an arm around her, and positioned behind her he reached to take her hands, guiding her through the motions. His chest brushed against her shoulder blades, making their proximity apparent, and Kieran stilled when he realized just what he had done, noticing how unmoving Lauren was. He went to take a step back, but before he could, Lauren grabbed his hand a tugged lightly bringing him back to where he was, his cheek just shy of touching her ear.
“Don’t think too much of it,” she said but didn’t turn around to look at him. “Show me.”
As per her request, Kieran resumed the motions, trying to focus on the garlic over her shoulder. He tried to focus on the repetitive and steady motions of the knife and not on her, not on the warmth of her body close to his or red hairs that fell on her porcelain cheek. He focused on helping her familiarize herself with the movement and not on the wild drumming of his heart in his throat
“Like that,” his voice was low for a reason he couldn’t pinpoint. “It’s easy. Quick.”
Lauren nodded slowly. “I see.”
“Think you can do it yourself?”
It took her a few more seconds of chopping to respond.
“Yes,” her voice was almost strained. “Yes, I can.”
He stalled for a moment, his hands hovering over hers, before stepping back with a fluttering breath. Clearing his throat, he moved over to stir the contents of the pot again, and when the vegetables had turned tender, he finally looked over at Lauren as she wiped residual garlic from the sides of her blade.
“All done? It’s time for the garlic.”
Lauren gave him a fleeting smile. “Yes, all done. Should I put it in?”
“If you’re not too scared of a pot, dear, by all means,” he snickered, earning himself a side-glare by Lauren as she quickly picked the minced garlic and let it fall on the pot. Kieran tipped his chin, continuing to stir the ingredients. “Add in the mushrooms.”
Lauren obeyed, picking them up in her hands and letting them fall on the pot as well. She followed his instructions as they went, adding the ingredients together and exchanging light conversation as they went, though it seemed neither of them was particularly eager to meet each other’s eyes. With their joined efforts, the stew quickly began taking shape, and by the time they had to let it simmer, they had managed to keep a steady flow of conversation.
“Why do you know how to cook, anyway?” Lauren wondered, helping him clean up the space. She took a few of the residual carrot slices to munch on, offering the rest to Kieran. “Did you take classes? Did someone teach you?”
“Well, you do know some of us don't grow up with a personal chef available twenty-four hours a day, right?”
“Asshat,” Lauren puffed, rolling her eyes. “It was a valid question.”
“It was more a thing of necessity, to be honest. I like good food, and I'm all alone, so I learned to make my own food.”
“You learned all on your own?”
“I may have had a few moments here and there cooking with other people. Mainly nice grannies from the neighborhood,” Kieran shrugged. “But I ruined a lot of things in the process, too. Though I never overboiled an egg as badly as you did.”
“Keep bringing up those blasted eggs and I'll chop one of your fingers off,” Lauren's snarl made Kieran cackle despite her offended expression. She ate some more of the carrot pieces, huffing. “I didn’t know eggs could turn that green.”
“Ten minutes tops,” Kieran snickered. “That’s the most time you'll need for a hard-boiled egg. I usually do around eight.”
“Will keep that in mind,” Lauren hummed, toying with one of the knives absentmindedly. They delved in the silence for a second, but soon enough she tried to fill it, and it surprised him nicely to hear what she had chosen as a conversation topic. “My parents didn't have much cooking experience either. Unsurprisingly, of course,” Lauren chuckled. “My mother liked embroidering, though. It always amazed me how she could craft such beautiful, delicate things with her own hands.”
“Embroidering is an art of patience,” Kieran whistled. “ Lots of patience.”
Lauren arched a questioning eyebrow. “Speaking from experience?”
“No, I never tried it. I assume it must be a pleasant thing,” he laughed. “I prefer sketching and painting. Though I truly don't paint nearly as much anymore.”
She dedicated him a faint smile. “You’re a man of many talents.”
“Really?” he smirked. “That’s so nice of you to say about me, mon amour . What makes you say that?”
Lauren hit him in the arm. “Don’t get cocky over that. What I mean is that you seem to be proficient in many things. Drawing, painting, cooking–” she gestured to the stove. “–Dancing, acting–”
“What makes you think I'm a good actor?” he quirked up an eyebrow. “The others, I can understand, but acting ?”
“ Please , you got everyone convinced of your act as the Meek Archivist back in Ardhalis,” Lauren scoffed. “You fooled an entire building of police officers.”
“I don’t think that makes me a good actor ,” he argued. “I'm just a good liar.”
“Being a good liar requires a solid acting talent too,” her following laugh lacked all signs of amusement. “I would know.”
“You’re the authority there,” he lifted his hands in defeat, ambling over to the pot and lifting the lid, peering inside. “What do you think?”
Lauren approached too, looking at the bubbling stew. She tipped her head curiously.
“Looks a bit red.”
“It’s supposed to be a little red.”
“The one I've had is more of a brown color.”
“I can only hope my version of such a precious dish is of your liking, mademoiselle Sinclair ,” he put the lid back on. “It’ll still need a while in there before it's time for the potatoes.”
“Mmm, alright,” she popped her last piece of carrot in her mouth. “We wait, then.”
They distracted themselves by revising their Lune plans while the stew cooked, stopping only to throw in the potatoes before letting it finish on its own. The room they were staying in contained few places that’d make a suitable hiding place, so they had resorted to keeping anything that could land them in jail inside a duffel bag, which included their notes and weapons.
It wasn’t easy to hide a katana, multiple knives, and two guns with their respective ammunition.
There wasn’t much they could do where they were. They were only just beginning to feel better from their injuries, scars obtained and lessons learned, but they had no idea when they would be able to leave the room without going mad with worry, much less make it back to Ardhalis. For now, all they had was their theories, and their memories, but those weren’t leading them very far. Progress was slow, each time trying to remember more from what they had seen in the factory or trying to figure out a story they knew only the beginning of. It grew frustrating for the vigilantes pretty quickly.
Kieran rushed out of his seat to check on the stew, checking the consistency before turning off the stove. Lauren stalked curiously to his side, watching as he discarded the thyme and bay leaves, doing some last seasoning before taking a spoonful of it to try. He beamed.
“And we're all done!”
She reached for the spoon. “Let me try.”
“No!” he gently slapped her hand away. “Just wait. Let me serve you first.”
“But–”
“I want your raw reaction when you have your bowl,” Lauren was about to protest but the exultant smile on his face made her think otherwise. She hid a smile of her own behind her hand as he happily served a bowl for each of them, amused at his joy over such a simple thing.
He ushered her to the table, placing their servings in front of the chairs, even going as far a pulling out the chair for Lauren with a dramatic bow. She laughed at his behavior as she sat. Waiting for his command, Lauren watched him take a seat in front of her, their knees almost touching under the dainty tablecloth. He flashed her white teeth and twinkling eyes that made her heart skip a beat.
“Alright, go ahead,” he pointed to the stew with his chin. “Try it.”
“Will you watch me as I eat?”
“Not in a weird way,” he laughed. “I just want to see if you like it or if I should give up my culinary endeavors altogether.”
She chuckled, shaking her head and bringing her spoon to her mouth.
She was immediately unable to hold back a pleased hum, already reaching for a second spoonful.
It tasted wonderful. Its warmth quickly engulfed her entire body with the coziness of a fireplace on a winter night. Its flavor was something she hadn’t tried before, the recipe familiar but different in a way she couldn't describe. It was comforting.
It felt homely, and that realization brought a hand over her lips to muffle the wave of emotion that drowned her.
She hadn’t realized how homesick she was.
She hadn’t realized how much she missed her Uncle's home with all the reminders of those who loved her. She hadn’t noticed how much she needed Kym’s smiles and Will's tranquil presence, the office shenanigans, and the silly little things that splashed color in her life before they had been ripped from her.
So far away from Ardhalis and with so many things to think about, she hadn’t noticed how much she missed home.
Kieran was staring at her wide-eyed. Lauren quickly wiped the tears away, breathing a shaky exhale and putting on a wobbly smile.
“It’s wonderful,” she admitted, pointing at the stew with her spoon. “It’s so good.”
Kieran's expression softened, and he reached to wipe a stray tear from her cheek.
“I'm glad you like it.”
The touch of his fingertips –surface rough, but gestures gentler than she thought possible– was a surprise, but also familiar and comforting, grounding in a way. He had held her like this before, but he had been desperate that time, trembling at the horrible possibility of her death. This time it was gentle in a purposeful way, one that almost had her leaning into his touch.
She curled her fingers around his instead, squeezing the digits tenderly.
“I love it,” she nodded slowly, her smile steadying. “Thank you.”
He smiled back, taking back his hand.
“I can make it for you as much as you want. I can make it for you until you grow sick of it.”
Lauren laughed at that, lifting a spoonful of it in the air.
“And I can help you all you need. Well,” she snickered. “Dicing and mincing, at least.”
Kieran burst out laughing. Lauren followed suit, La Lune allowing themselves to enjoy a simple moment, something many would question but that they appreciated greatly. They ate together, exchanging cheerful conversation and hearty laughs until the ache in Lauren’s heart lessened.
She missed everyone. She truly did. But she wasn't alone. She knew that as long as Kieran was alive, she would never have to be alone to face the world.
They could find home here one stew at a time.
