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“I have never in all my lives tasted something this good.”
The Drifter’s eyes gleamed with pride while he was chewing, watching her from across the table in the galley of the Derelict.
“It is so good,” she mumbled, her mouth full.
“Way too early for me to be pulling out something like this for ya… but this is a special occasion so something special had to be made and, well, this is the most special thing I know.”
“I did not expect to be this impressed.”
“It’s pretty good, not gonna lie. This one’s a show stopper.”
“What is it called?”
The Drifter blinked and swallowed.
Eris tilted her head.
“The dish I’ve made for you tonight,” he smirked while reaching across the table to wipe a tiny bit of sauce from her chin and then lick his finger, “is composed of chicken, in a cream sauce, with sun dried tomatoes, red pepper flakes, parmesan cheese, basil, garlic, and thyme… the plant, not… how long it took to make.”
“Hmmm…”
“I put it on top of linguini, which is just the name of this noodle,” he held one up on his fork as an example, “that’s halfway between spaghetti, which is the round one, and fettuccine, which is the flat one. Although both of those are good too, hell any noodles or rice or just about anything is fine under this. It’s pretty great.” He returned to twirling his noodles in his fork.
“Hmmm…”
“What?”
“I asked you what it was called and you told me the ingredients.”
He paused, the food on his fork held mid-air. He put the fork down and took a sip of water.
“Has anyone ever told you that your level of attention to detail is frightening?”
“What are you hiding from me, Rat?” Eris prepared another mouthful of food on her fork. “Are you… blushing?”
“Feels like it, yup. Probably am.” He nodded.
“Is it named something excessively lewd and inappropriate?”
He shook his head and took another sip from his glass.
She studied her plate. “Chicken thighs in a cream sauce... cum on my thighs?”
He started coughing as water went up his nose.
“Dammit.” He took a few moments to breathe. “No, it is not.” He laughed. “Where the hell did that come from, Moondust? Damn!”
Eris continued eating, her face impassive. “Were you under the impression that my command of language only extended to words of more than three syllables?”
“Holy shit, Eris,” His face was red. “This is not how I thought this dinner was gonna go.”
"Hmmm… you are disappointed."
"Nope. Didn't say that. Don't feel that. Just surprised as all hell at what just came out of your mouth."
"Hmmm…"
"Cum on my thighs," he whispered, still baffled, shaking his head.
"Your request will be taken under consideration."
"Now you're just fucking with me."
"We should at least finish dinner first."
The Drifter coughed, laughing so hard tears were coming out of his eyes.
"Dammit, Moondust, I was tryin' for romantic here. This is our first actual legit date. And you just got back from takin’ out two gods and bein’ the most powerful hive that ever hived. It’s supposed to be a celebration. I even got us a candle and everything."
Eris looked over at the single candle sputtering to itself in a metal can on the table between them.
“I mean yeah, it’s in a soup can, but it's still a candle. That makes this a candle-lit dinner for two. By definition, as you so like to say. "
Eris smiled. "Yes, it is. And I do like it."
"Do you?"
"Yes."
She reached out and took his free hand, twining her fingers between his.
"So, what is the name of this dish that is not…” She broke off as he looked away. “That… actually offends you.”
He sighed. “A little, yeah. Not you talkin’ like that, that’s hilarious. Please do that more. Just… not about this.”
She rubbed her thumb against the side of his hand.
“I’m sorry. You made something very special to you and in my attempts at humour I’ve ruined the mood completely. Please forgive me.”
"You’re forgiven, but… I’m not comfortable sharing the name of this particular dish with you and I am asking you to please accept that and respect that I am keeping this one from you.”
“Because of what I said?”
“Nope, not related.”
“Hmmm…a secret food, then.” She continued eating with one hand while holding his hand in the other.
“Yeah. A secret food.”
“You’ve fed me a secret food, won’t tell me the name of it, although you freely give me the ingredients, you blush deeply when I ask, and it isn’t something horrifically crass. It is in fact the opposite… very special to you. Extremely so. Deeply personal.” She squeezed his hand.
“Yeah.”
“What a fascinating puzzle.”
“Uh oh. Moondust, I want you to promise me something.”
“Hmmm…?”
“Promise me you won’t go looking this up. It’s an old, old recipe. Pre-golden age. Anyone who knows about it is long dead by at least a thousand years. There’s no way in hell you’d find it. But now I’m actually concerned. You are like a fish in water in a library and if anyone could determine what it is, it would be you. Will you promise me? Please?”
She smiled, chewing slowly, looking away for a moment, enjoying his discomfort, before returning her gaze to him and lifting his hand to her lips, kissing one of his knuckles and swallowing her mouthful of noodles and chicken.
“I promise I will not research the name of your secret food. But, does this mean I do not get to eat it ever again? It’s so good. It was never my intention to insult it or you.”
“I’ll make it for you again.” He gave her hand a squeeze and let go. “I know it’s good. I’ll make it for you lots. As long as you don’t call it… that. And again, I ain’t complaining ‘bout you talking like that, just the application to this dish, specifically.”
“And will I ever get to know the name?”
“Ha!” He laughed nervously. “I uh… I don’t know. Um…" His eyes briefly unfocused. “Maybe?” he whispered. “Didn’t think I’d ever share this with anyone and here I am sharing it with you, so…” His eyes refocused and he looked at her like he was trying to calculate something. “Maybe.” He said the word softly, like a prayer.
“Hmmm…” She rested her chin on her hand, observing him as she ate.
“Tell ya what.” He poked the air between them with his fork. “Ask me again in… a hundred years… and we’ll see where we’re at, ok?” He returned his fork to the chicken.
“A hundred years.” She said incredulously.
“Yeah… at that point if I’m still feeding you this, you’re entitled to know the name of it.” He grinned at her and ate another forkfull.
“You really mean I cannot research this for a hundred years.”
“Yup. You promised.”
“We could die at any point before then.”
“Fine, if we’re about to die I’ll tell you the name of it then too.”
“What if I find out by accident?”
“You won’t.”
“How did you find out what it is and what it’s called if everyone who has ever made it is long dead?”
“A farmer taught it to me. His father taught it to him, and his father before him. It’s… a family recipe… and for a while that family had unofficially adopted me as one of their own.”
She drew in a sharp breath. “It was them.”
“Yeah.” He looked down at his food. “It was them.”
“I feel terrible now. Have you never shared this with anyone else?”
“No one.” He looked up into her eyes. “Only you.”
“I am… honoured.”
“Yeah, I guess it is a bit of an honour thing.”
“You don’t do honour.” She shifted her voice to match his cadence. “That sorta shit gets you killed.”
He laughed. “Well, apparently in this one specific case, I do. And also, that’s real cute, what you did just now. You should do that more too.”
“But I have made you regret sharing it with me.” Her voice was tinged in sadness.
“I… no… you have not. Not one bit. Ain’t no one else I’d want to share this with. Very grateful you’re here sharing it with me now. This is a happy thing. No amount of random, unexpected, fuckin’ hysterical, cussin’ from your oh so sophisticated mouth is gonna change that.”
She smiled again. “I didn’t know honour could taste so good.”
“It really is tasty. That’s… why it’s called what it’s called. Gimme your plate?” He stood with his empty metal plate and fork in one hand.
“Hmmm… sadly, yes.” She placed her fork on her empty plate and passed it to him.
“I will make it for ya again, I promise,” he said, taking their plates to the sink. "Felt real good to make it for you. What’s that word, cathartic? It felt right. Safe, even, if that makes any sense.” He looked back at her. “Tea?”
“Yes.”
“I got a special one for you to try, and a backup if you don’t like it. Chocolate mint.”
She wrinkled her nose.
“But before you go judging it, it’s not sweet, not at all.”
“I am willing to try it, although chocolate does not sound like it belongs in tea.”
“The chocolate isn’t added to the tea. The plant the tea is made from is called chocolate mint. Ain’t no actual chocolate involved.”
“Really.”
“Yup. Mint is fuckin’ weird like that. Oodles of different kinds.”
“Oodles.” She spoke the word as though she were rolling it around on her tongue.
“Oodles. And it’s super aggressive, for a plant anyway, so I have to keep it in its own box on its own shelf or it just takes over everything… slowly of course, cuz it’s a plant. Grows over top of the other plants to steal their light. Mint is vicious. Doesn’t play nice with others. I like it.” He handed her a steaming mug and sat back down across from her.
“It smells like candy.”
“Yup. Nothing in it though. No sugar, no honey. Just dried leaves and water. I put milk in mine. Cuts the bite. Not in yours, though.” His eyes glittered. “You like stuff that bites.”
“Hmmm…” She smiled and took a sip.
“You can try mine if you want to know how it is when it’s more creamy-like.”
“No. I like it as it is, without alteration.”
“Thought you might.”
“And it just… grows… like this…”
“Yup. Wanna see it? I can give you the plant tour. It ain’t long.”
“Yes.”
He stood up and held out his hand. She took it and laced her fingers between his. Mugs in their other opposite hands, they walked through the doorway together.