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Flour in hand, sugar already measured to one side of the bowl. Slingshot watched his ingredients scattered around the counter, a nervous expression noticeable on his face.
That was what the recipe said, wasn't it? Slingshot, for the fifth time, glanced down at the wasted piece of paper in his hand; it was nothing special... just a recipe from the clan he used to be with.
Petals from a flower for flavoring, natural sugar, oat or almond flour... Slingshot exhaled, an internal gratitude appearing in his mind for Shuriken—if he had never broken into his room and found his old mask, he wouldn't have this recipe in his hands right now.
Slingshot placed the paper on the counter, his hands wobbly around his kitchen utensils.
He was afraid of doing something wrong, of not making it perfect like theirs.
There wasn't much variation in ingredients, but it was the minimum to make that recipe that always delighted his palate.
What did they call it? So much time had passed that he couldn't remember; only jumbled words formed whenever he thought about the name of the recipe.
Before he could even grab the bowl, a statement hit him.
The recipe will be ruined if you modernize it.
...Almost forgot, they always cooked by hand without the help of kitchen utensils, only their mind and nature.
A growl escaped from the mouth of the blue-horned inphernal, grabbing everything it had prepared to put it back.
Perhaps trying to remember something about the clan would help him in the kitchen, right?
The light of the setting sun filtered through the cafe's windows, conversations echoing from the first floor to the second. Regulars, new customers, and everyone in between enjoyed their orders, the perfectly prepared coffees from the chef, the helpfulness at the register, and the friendly service from the waiter; it was no wonder that Thieve's Rest was so famous in Crossroads.
Slingshot placed another order of dark coffee above the partition between the lounge and the kitchen, ringing a bell to alert Shuriken about the order.
Before he could head back into the kitchen, Vine Staff's voice at the cash register stopped him.
—“Sling! Wait!”— The aforementioned stopped instinctively, turning his gaze toward his sister with curiosity—“Ah, I know you don’t like being disturbed on your work shift, but it’s important!”
A short laugh escaped Slingshot, waving his hands in the air in dismissal—"Vine, you're not bothering me! I only say that so some customer doesn't try to talk to me, but I'll always listen to you and Shuriken."
Vine Staff looked calmer upon hearing the words, adjusting her posture before continuing the conversation—"Do you remember the last phight we had, on the HQ map? Well... Maybe I made a little deal with... You know!"
—“'I know'? Vine Staff, please tell me you didn't do something stupid.”
—“Promise me you won’t get mad!”— she blurted defensively, covering her mouth to let out a fake cough to relax her voice—“Well, it is stupid, actually.”
—“That day, PWNatious III hadn’t left on time and… To put it simply, Skateboard was bragging about your food and PWNatious III overheard him. He said he wanted to try the food himself, and I agreed because of pressure.”— A nervous laugh escaped the pink-horned Inphernal, Slingshot’s expression subtly changing—“And now we’ll probably have an important client tomorrow.”
Although Vine Staff's voice had dropped to a whisper in her last words, Slingshot understood every possible sound. A whisper, cursing Skateboard, escaped his lips—"Vine..."
Before he could even scold his sister, his eyes shifted toward the entrance; a customer, a daily but irritating one, was walking through the front door. Coil's gaze fell on the siblings talking, approaching them with a confident smile.
—“Uh, Vine, you know what? Let’s talk about it later, I have to do something really fast”— Slingshot didn’t wait for Vine Staff’s response, quickly disappearing into the kitchen.
Vine, still confused, didn't notice Coil's presence until he raised his voice—"Tch, Whiskas escaping once again as soon as I arrived? What a greaat impression for someone like him."
—“Ah, Coil! Welcome back!”— the cashier said kindly, turning to him with her usual smile—“Would you like to order your usual, or something new? We finally got the ingredients for the blueberry muffins back in stock, maybe your mentor would like to try them again!”
—“Her opinion actually helped the coffee a lot! Slingshot noticed just how sweet the dessert had become.”—Vine continued, Coil still not interrupting her—“You know, she should come here sometime; she could really help with tasting the flavors.”
—“Nah, I don’t think that’ll ever happen.”— Coil finally spoke, vaguely, leaning on the counter—“She doesn’t really like crowded places, y’ know.”
—“Ah, my bad.”— Vine replied, quickly grabbing a notepad and pen—“No more talk, tell me, what is it you want to order?”
A 'mhm' escaped Coil, as if he were struggling to choose an order. Without looking at the menu board above, he raised his voice—"Something bitter, not too bitter but sweet at the same time, with blueberries to make sure they're natural. A drink that will give you energy, flavorful but with that touch of… well, again bitterness."
—“Do you know it’s simpler to just say the name of the order and be done with it, instead of always having to describe it?”
—“Just pass it on to Slingshot, he should know what I mean; if not, I’ll let know.”
Vine Staff sighed, tearing off the written slip and lining it up with other orders. She turned her gaze back to the cash register, trying to remember which order had that description.
The attention of the two Inphernals was captured by Slingshot, who came out of the kitchen with a new dish; a bread, possibly almond and cut in half without separating yet, filled with a pastry cream and covered with sugar with petal decorations... Coil's eyebrows rose when he saw the dessert, his surprise increasing when Slingshot extended it towards him.
—“Wh-ah?”— He murmured, seconds later regaining his composure—“Great gesture, Whiskas, a special order just for me? You flatter me.”
—"Shut up, just try it."— Slingshot muttered, placing the plate on the counter in front of Coil.
—“I haven’t even sat down and you already want me to start eating? So worried about me.”— Coil continued, testing Slingshot’s reaction limit.
Slingshot knew very well that he couldn't stand Coil's attitude; the way he was always trying to push his buttons to the limit was irritating, but he was the only one who could give him a sincere answer; Skateboard or Boombox would always praise his food, Shuriken, Vine Staff or even Katana would too, Coil was the only one who mostly spoke with the raw truth.
But he would rather burn a cake five hundred times than tell Coil that he needed his opinion on the flavor.
He exchanged glances with Vine Staff; she looked even more confused than before. Slingshot turned his attention back to Coil, inwardly praying that the recipe tasted good.
Coil grabbed one of the petals, played with it between his fingers before placing it on the plate, lifted the bread examining it before taking a bite; he chewed, tensing Slingshot's muscles as he saw that he was taking too long in his response.
—“It’s… decent.”— he finally murmured, putting the rest back on the plate.
Decent... Decent?? Does that mean it's not okay? Or is Coil just playing with him?
He squinted, looking for some reaction from Coil.
—“I take it back, it’s way too sweet—”— Slingshot was shocked. Seeing Coil spit out what little he’d eaten filled him with self-loathing. Was his food really that awful? So Coil hadn’t lied about it tasting 'decent' after all? They’d be disappointed to see he’d never learned a thing about cooking…
Slingshot didn't react at all, just lowered his head; he grabbed the plate and headed back towards the kitchen, passing through the door and going straight to the trash can.
Perhaps the pastry cream was the problem; he always overdoes it with that... Or the petals? probably sweeten them way too much.
Slingshot didn't move the plate away from the trash can until every last bit of dessert had fallen into the bag, then he carried the plate and put it in the sink.
He grabbed the paper where the recipe was written, rereading it a thousand times, continuing with his work after Vine Staff snapped him out of his trance with a shout.
The cafe was closed; the sign indicating this had appeared before the scheduled time. However, it wasn't unusual for Slingshot to force his brothers to leave early.
There was no chatter, no clinking of cups, no bells, nor that constant rhythm of employee friendliness.
Just silence, one that was sometimes interrupted by the hanging clock in the kitchen.
Slingshot stood at the front of the counter, the same ingredients he used in the morning perfectly aligned with each other.
Everything was exactly the same, just like the note said! But for him, something felt off.
—“...It wasn't like that.”— he murmured, discarding one of the ingredients, checking the wasted note for the third time.
It was difficult to understand the handwriting, especially because his vision was blurred by the tears he was holding back.
Now that he thinks about it, even in his time in the clan he couldn't understand any letter of them.
A breath escaped his lips, beginning the procedure once again.
Mix, whisk manually, cut, wait, taste.
he frowned, lowering the spoon he used to taste.
—“...Cloying.”— he repeated those words, once again. The flavor was actually good, technically better than his lasts attempts! But it wasn't like that, it wasn't that flavor that sweetened his palate, he couldn't capture the essence of their cooking.
he grabbed the bowl, looking at the mixture with hatred and weariness, subtly tightening his grip.
—“Mhm, mhm”— a sound with a tone of disappointment suddenly appeared, catching Slingshot's attention—“How many more times are you going to repeat that? If you want it to suddenly change, you should change your ingredients.”
Slingshot didn't need to turn around or shout; he already knew that voice was Coil's. "It's closed," he whispered, making no attempt to show the hateful tone he always displayed toward that particular customer.
—“I saw the sign, you don’t have to repeat yourself, Whiskas!”— he joked, stepping back from the door frame to get a closer look—“And no, you can’t kick me out, it’s not the closing time yet.”
Slingshot didn't respond, subtly moving the bowl aside as Coil stood beside him—"I'll kick you out anyway."
"Mhm, dramatic," he murmured, gently hitting his shoulder. His smile faded when he saw Slingshot's serious expression, his attention then shifting to the bowl.
—“Ah, what do we have here?”— he blurted out, taking the mixture from Slingshot’s hands; he didn’t stop him, but his throat still felt dry from his fear that he had made everything worse—“Pastry cream again? Pfft, you definitely want to cook something with that.”
When Coil didn't get a response, he hesitated for a few moments; his eyes wandered around the kitchen more attentively, quickly noticing the number of dirty bowls and the trash can full of the recipe that Slingshot had given him.
He didn't answer, he dipped one of his fingers into the mixture before beginning to taste it.
Slingshot's entire body tensed, his urge to cry disappearing, replaced by a feeling he couldn't describe; he couldn't stop it, only wait for the mockery again.
—“It’s… fine.”— Coil whispered.—“No, it’s more than fine, actually.”
That left Slingshot stunned, and moments later he refused to accept the words—"But-"
—“But it’s not what you wanted, huh?”— Coil interrupted, finally looking Slingshot in the eyes.
He remained silent, his expression hardening and his breathing becoming agitated, this time reacting—"...You don't know anything, so don't give your opinion."
—“Then explain it to me.”— he replied, tasting the mixture again—“You never react this way so dramatically to my opinion, not like this at least.”
—“I don’t have to explain anything to you,nothing.”
—"Tch, always on the defensive, aren't you, Whiskas?"— A dry laugh escaped him, trying to lighten the mood. His seriousness returned when he saw Sling's reaction.
letting out a sigh Coil continued—“...Always reacting defensively, Slingshot, it's just an opinion.”
—“It’s because you say it in a bad way, everyone says it! They exaggerate their opinion, they call my cooking decent.”
—“They didn’t, but I did.”
Silence fell between them, Slingshot's agitated sighs slowing down at Coil's words.
Had he heard right? No, no, Coil is never trustworthy with his words, at least not with him.
Slingshot hesitated, thinking, was he trying to provoke him back? But...
—“...It's not my recipe.”— he finally blurted out, tensing up again and looking away—“It's someone else's, someone who wanted it to be my recipe... but it never will be, I can never cook it right.”
A pause, taking the bowl from Coil's grasp—"Someone who cooked better than me."—he stopped, looking for some reaction from Coil—"I followed the steps, every single one, every measurement and time. But, even so, it doesn't turn out the same."
—“It will never be the same, I will never be able to do it the same way as before.”
—“Then stop copying them.”— Coil finally raised his voice, Slingshot looking at him again in surprise.
—“No.”— an immediate response, turning his attention back to the bowl.
—“Why not, Sling? Nobody’s stopping you.”
—“Why?”— Slingshot grabbed one of the nearby flowers, starting to pluck the petals and throw them into the mixture—“If I can’t do this, then I’ll never be able to do anything else properly.”
—“That’s… ridiculous, very ridiculous of you indeed.”— The other said, without a hint or sign of mockery.
—“I know, I know.”
—“And yet.”— Coil continued, pulling Slingshot’s bowl away before he could dip his hand into the mixture—“It doesn’t taste the same.”
—“You don’t need to repeat that to me.”
—“I never meant it in a bad way, it’s just… How do I put it? This tastes like you, and that’s not a bad thing.”
Slingshot remained motionless, unsure if he was dreaming or if Coil was really saying it.
—“I’m not saying it’s perfect.”— Coil grabbed one of the petals, extending it to Slingshot to try—“It’s missing something, quite a lot in fact.”
Slingshot's pupils dilated subtly, holding his breath because of everything he was feeling at that moment.
—“But it’s not a failure.”
Coil softened his expression as he saw a tear fall down Slingshot's cheek, Sling quickly rubbing his eyes in an attempt not to look so vulnerable—"It's not enough yet..."— he stammered, trying to regain his voice.
—“Because it shouldn’t be, Sling.”— he interrupted, placing the bowl on the counter. He took a step toward him, removing his hands from his face—“Or also because you’re comparing yourself to someone who’s no longer here.”
That was a crushing blow to Slingshot, his whimpering increasing with the reminder Coil had given.
—“But it’s not because you’re worse.”— he continued, letting go of one of Slingshot’s hands to adjust his headband—“It’s because you’re not that person.”
Slingshot remained silent, not doing anything to him or pushing him away, only forcing him into a tight embrace; continuing to shed tears on his neck.
Coil accepted the hug, responding with a soft and gentle touch—"...It's okay if it doesn't turn out exactly the same."— his voice slowed down, adopting a friendlier and softer tone—"But keep trying to make it identical? Tch, it ruins all of that."
The air grew heavy, Coil adding nothing more to his words. Slingshot continued to cry softly; it felt good to have received such words from Coil; he never thought he could be so... sentimental.
This continued for a while before Coil spoke, regaining his usual demeanor—"It's still very sweet, and the texture is a little off too."— Slingshot moved slightly away from Coil's neck, Coil wiping away a tear that was falling down his cheek with his hand—"But you fix it, you always do."
A weak smile formed on Slingshot's face, resting his cheek against Coil's hand—"Thank you..."
—“You’re welcome, Whiskas.”— Coil murmured, maintaining that position for a few moments—“That’s very affectionate of you, isn’t it?”
Slingshot laughed, enjoying one of Coil's jokes for the first time—"I say the same, I never expected to hear you say those words."
Even so, they remained in that position, their faces maintaining a gentle expression on both sides.
—“So… Let me help you with the mess. Isn’t it the least I can do after barging into your cafe without permission?”
—“Ah, wait.”— Slingshot interrupted, stepping away from him before turning his attention back to the bowl—“Could you help me with the recipe? I plan to give it to an important client tomorrow and I need some help.”
—“Mhm, sure Whiskas!”— he replied, acting as if the recent moment hadn't happened; but, even so, he couldn't pretend that he felt better when he saw Slingshot finally giving him a smile instead of a dead stare.