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“Screwllum, you know that I care for you deeply, yes?”
“Answer: I do.”
“Good. Then I would also like you to know that at this very moment, that care is disappearing by the second and I am this close to finding a way to nullify all of our agreements.”
“If you say so, good doctor.” He doesn’t miss how Screwllum contains the laughter in his voice.
“‘If you say you’? Oh, the sass on you these days—shit.” He and Screwllum step away from each other, deftly dodging whatever just got thrown in their direction. It makes a splat against the wall behind them and he closes his eyes for one, two, three seconds. Then ten, then twenty. On the thirty-fifth second, he opens his eyes and sighs heavily, raising an arm to press his fingers over his mouth. Mostly to physically prevent himself from making a crude comment, somewhat to help express his distaste at what is in front of him.
“What the fuck did you just say to me?!” Perfect, she calls herself. He wonders if she practices that line in the mirror.
“I said, Madam, that your hat is an aeonsdamned health hazard!” He used to look up to the man who just slammed his hand down on a brightly patterned tablecloth.
“To fucking who, Salas?” How anyone looks up to these people—
“To me, you overcompensating witch!”—he does not know.
“You fucking c— no! Ruan Mei, you will let me climb over this table and slap the fuck out of Elias!” Truly, he thinks, that glare could stop Tayzzyronth in THEIR tracks. It doesn’t calm The Herta down, but Ruan Mei’s expression does get her to drop her leg down from the table.
(But for Screwllum, he will…try to keep his comments in check. Or well, the first one per Genius at least.)
He shifts his gaze away from The Herta—what a stupid name and damn the Guild for giving her such ammo to praise herself with—to raise an eyebrow at Screwllum. A Screwllum who is looking at him with lenses flickering at the rate in which Veritas has learned to translate into mirth.
“Your Society is pathetic and every single day I pray to Nous for its downfall.” He doesn’t jump when a hand sneaks its way to rest on the small of his back, thumb rubbing in a soothing circle, but he does glare at the man for such an open display of affection, especially in front of the Society.
He does nothing to remove the hand, however.
“Question: Shall we make our way to our table for the competition, dearest Veritas?” He wants to say no, to turn around and head back home—to Planet Screwllum, he corrects himself—but he promised Screwllum he would attend at least one Society holiday event as a tradeoff for Screwllum volunteering at the Guild’s Winter Carnival. (Which, he reminds himself, the only thing Screwllum did was stand and stare at him while he did all the heavy lifting.) So here he is...at whatever this is. He stands up straighter, adjusts his tie, and huffs.
“If we must.”
“Rest assured, I have requested for our table to be as far away from Madam Herta as possible, but please be advised, she can hit her targets from quite a distance. Anecdote: She once managed to hit Elias in the head with a cupcake from the other room a few years back. It truly is an amazing sight to see at least once. But I digress—we will be competing at a table near Zandar.”
“If she throws anything at me, and I mean anything, I am throwing something right back.” Screwllum hums as he steers them through the tables to the one they apparently will be at. “Wait…Screwllum? What did you mean by competition?”
Screwllum’s hum gets a little cheerier, a little jauntier, before he answers. “This is the Annual Genius Society Holiday Baking Competition. Did I not mention that, my dear doctor?”
“No, you did not. Why would I want t—did you say we are seated next to Zandar One Kuwabara?”
“And his partner, Louis Fleming, yes.” Screwllum looks at him with flickering lenses and a tilt of his head.
“There will be paperwork for you to sign when we return home, Mr. Screwllum.”
“Of course, beloved. When we return home, of course.” That jaunty little tone is back.
“I meant— I meant— Just show me the damn table.”
△
Of all things, he didn’t expect Zandar One Kuwabara to be chatty. The moment he had sat himself down on the little stool that was provided for each of them at their designated table, the man had zoomed over from his table and started talking a mile a minute. What Veritas found most interesting, though, was that the man flitted from topic to topic without pause, yet never once took even a second to acknowledge the two very big elephants in the room.
Veritas does find out quickly what exactly this event is, which is nice. That last thing he wants to do is seem like he has no idea what is going on at an event he had been invited to. Especially when almost everyone in the room is a Society Genius.
Screwllum was not incorrect that this was the Annual Genius Society Holiday Baking Competition, but there was one more part of that.
(“Oh yes, well. None of us are bad bakers, you see, not after doing this every single year for several amber eras. After the judging ends, we cook and bake whatever is left over and then find the nearest planet in need of food and donate everything. Then off we pop, back to our daily lives. However, in recent centuries, if we don’t have anything super vital to attend to, we try our hand at helping the planet. Screwllum is quite good at political dilemmas if we can pull him away long enough. Though between you and me, I think Screwllita likes bullying him around too much to let him stay off planet for too long.”
“Correction: They do not bully me, they simply do not like having to do my official duties for too long. Too many missed salon appointments, they have informed me.”
“Ah yes, I suppose that would make more sense. Ah well, you never tell me much about your day-to-day life, Screwllum, so this old man has to make things up. That being said, if you two aren’t too busy with your current project at the moment, perhaps you could join us, Dr. Ratio? A man with your knowledge couldn’t possibly be anything but a boon for us.”)
They had continued to talk for a few moments, before a very sharply dressed Polka Kakamond had appeared and informed Zandar that he had competition host duties to attend to. Zandar had nodded while he twisted out of the path of Polka’s scalpel, waving his goodbye as he rushed across the room to the…frankly garish stage. When Veritas had turned to address their new guest, she was already gone.
“Ah yes, I do not think she is too happy with me after what happened with the Unknowable Domain.”
“And what exactly did happen in this mysterious Unknowable Domain that you refuse to tell me about, yet you now suddenly possess a much larger knowledge base about the history of the Mundanites?”
“Nothing, dear.” Screwllum keeps his gaze forward, not even turning the slightest of degrees toward Veritas.
“Of course. Dear. You know I will find out, yes?”
“Answer: Yes…”
“Perfect.”
△
It’s not long after his departure that Zandar One Kuwabara calls for the attention of the large hall.
“Explanation: Stephen and his adoptive father decorated it. They would be here, were it not for their fruit shop being very busy this time of year; Stephen loves the ‘hustle and bustle’, as he calls it. So, he and Zandar came up with an agreement that Stephen could decorate the stage so we would not miss him. I think the ducks based on all of us are quite cute. I do enjoy that he also made a small origami bird for you.”
“I didn’t ask a question, Mr. Screwllum.”
“You are correct, Mr. Ratio. However, as they say, ‘your face says it all’.” He is positive his face did not change upon laying eyes on the stage, which…
He wonders when he became so easy to read to Screwllum.
“So cocky you’ve become, Mr. Screwllum.” He flicks his gaze toward Screwllum for a brief moment, before returning to the stage. “And yes, the origami bird is a nice touch.”
“I will make sure to grab it before Herta finds it.”
“You see to that.”
△
“Forgive me for my ignorance and slight, but I was not aware you baked.” He shrugs as he arranges all the measuring cups and baking utensils along the surface of that table. The measuring cups are laid out in front of Screwllum, who he knows will make sure that the ingredients are precise when it is time for them to be added. The utensils stay in front of him, as he knows his ways around the recipes and how to mix everything properly. He has no doubt that Screwllum has consumed dozens, if not hundreds, of recipe books, but the recipes he will be using are old and passed down through generations of his family. One must handle them with care and a precision that no book can dictate.
“Oh! It’s Screwy! And the—”
“Herta.”
“...Idiot. I was going to say idiot, Ruan Mei!” She wasn’t and they all know it. “Anyway, can’t stay and chat for long, sorry Screwy. I just wanted to let the…good doctor—hey, don’t glare at me!—know that I will be making plenty of apple themed dishes so he can stay far, far away from me!”
He sighs and crosses his arms across his chest, grateful he had not yet put on his apron. He does not need any comments from the peanut gallery that is The Madam Herta. “You know Miss Ruan Mei is a doctor too, yes?”
“Yeah, I’m not stupid. But she’s my wife and therefore exempt from silly things like that. Toodles!” Ruan Mei nods politely at them, turning sharply on her heel to follow a skipping Herta. He notices a small mooncake left behind and brings it closer to him.
“Should I be concerned about what is in this?”
“I would not. Ruan Mei still wishes to perform many tests on you, so she would not risk your life so soon. Now, please explain to me your thought process for this contest, as I know you have one. I will admit, I have never truly participated in one of these. I normally merely mix and measure for Herta.” Veritas nods, a smirk on his lips.
“How wonderful this will be, to have the upper hand on a matter related to Geniuses. I anticipate that everyone here has been trying the same recipes for decades, with the exception of some notable few like Yu Qingtu. I also am anticipating that a majority, use classic, by the book recipes. I will not be doing that.”
“Veritas dear…are you sure you have not imagined being in a baking competition with the Society before?
“Don’t be an idiot, Screwllum.” He purses his lips and looks away, pointedly ignoring Screwllum’s head tilt. “I simply…had a phase during my third doctorate where all I did for months on end was watch cooking and baking competitions from various planets. Some of it just…stayed with me. And, and—don’t tilt your head at me like that—baking is less stressful on my hands than marble carving is, so I picked up the habit after my doctor yelled at me for ignoring their advice for the fifth time.”
“I see. Thank you for informing me.” There’s that laughter again in Screwllum’s tone that always spells trouble for Veritas in the near future.
“...you are planning on renovating that big kitchen you never use, aren’t you?” It’s not the one they normally use, but a grand kitchen that has sat empty for centuries, if he had to take a guess. Screwllum hums that little cocky hum of his and returns to assessing the measuring cups in front of him.
“Whatever gave you that idea, beloved baker?”
“At least consult me before you pick the ovens.”
“Of course, my dear.” Though he knows that Screwllum desires to kiss him, judging by the hand on his arm to pull him closer, he is grateful that Screwllum merely holds his arm for a few moments.
Then Zandar is back on the stage and all hell breaks loose.
△
They don’t win first, nor second, but third. He knows that he baked better than everyone else, but he doubts anyone played fair in the judging. He also knows that Screwllum is the only reason he placed at all.
He…doesn’t mind it as much as he thought he would. In the end, this is merely a game for all of them, and if he were to best the Genius Society, he would rather do so on the much grander stage of academics and knowledge.
Screwllum, however, is not happy about the placement, evident from how he walks around the large hall with a clipboard and their judging slips, pencil tap tap tapping away.
△
They return home four days later, having actually happened upon a major planetary crisis that they had stumbled upon during their food delivery. As he bites into a sugar cookie baked by Aiden, Veritas lets his mind wander, looking down at his and Screwllum’s intertwined hands. Scars cover both flesh and metal digits, showing years of work in their respective fields.
“Screwllum…” There’s a soft hum from behind him, but Screwllum makes no motion to move away from where his face is pressed into Veritas’s let down hair. It is something that he has taken to doing more often. It was…nice, to not have to mask his long hair all the time. However, it was a habit he had done for so long, longer than his alabaster bust, that he often forgets he is even wearing it.
“Yes, my dear?”
“About Zandar’s olive branch…” The arms around his waist squeeze a little tighter and he shifts in Screwllum’s hold.
“You do not have to do anything about that. He was just being…Zandar, truly. As he is the closest to Nous, any distresses within Erudition tend to stress him out as well. Or so I have been told.”
“I know, I know. Now don’t consider this a holiday miracle or anything—and before you say anything, I have seen our StarFlix history as of late—but…I will…consider it. Just…give me time.”
“Of course. Assurance: As long as you need, Veritas. I will not rush you on this, and I do not believe Zandar will either.”
“...thanks.” Screwllum hums again and Veritas can feel him shift from pressing his left cheek into his hair to his right cheek. He can also feel how Screwllum twists his hair around his fingers.
“You are most welcome. And Veritas?”
“Yes?”
“I do believe your kourabiedes were superior to everyone else’s dish in the multiple batch challenge. Just please do not tell anyone that. I still have to work with them.”
“Of course, Mr. Screwllum, of course.”