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When it came to cooking and cleaning within the recon corps, assignments were not divided by any level of fairness but by capability. Commander Smith was kind enough to insist that what might be a soldier’s last meal at least be palatable, and given Levi’s fastidiousness keeping the quicker and more thorough cleaners on tidying details prevented time that could be used for rest wasted.
These days, the only two constants on food preparation detail were himself and Jean. Armin’s presence was fairly easy to figure out. When it was his turn to figure out how to stretch out their rationed supplies into something edible, he cracked open a book and followed the recipes. It was a predictable success. Jean surprisingly improved Armin’s passable cooking and turned out a feast.
Armin watched Jean closely to try and figure out the other youth’s secret. Jean didn’t work off of any notes, or even seem to bother with precise measurements. Oftentimes, all Armin contributed in the kitchen was Jean-watching, too absorbed in trying to decipher the trick to the magic within Jean’s cooking to do anything himself.
"If all you’re going to do is stare at Kirschtein all night, you can help peel potatoes!" Connie griped and Armin only barely missed the potato that was lobbed at his head.
"Oi, no throwing produce at my assistant." Jean growled and pointed the knife he was holding at Connie. "Or I start throwing knives. Enough observing, Armin, come over here and give me a hand."
Armin flushed at Jean not only covering for him, but also the unnecessarily heroic pose Jean had struck in doing so. Shoulders back, head tilted up, his eyes narrowed intimidatingly…no wonder Connie did not (rightfully) continue to gripe. Jean was not done taking Armin off guard, because they both knew the other enjoyed watching a flustered and blushing Armin. No matter how close they were, a bully never really changes his stripes just his intentions. Once Armin was in range to do so, Jean grasped his hands. “Now, pay attention,” unnecessary words, really, “keep your hands like this.”
Jean shaped Armin’s hands in a bowl and looked around before sneaking a kiss. He turned away and scooped a handful of sugar and poured it into Armin’s hand. “Sugar. One full cup. Go ahead, test it.” Jean grinned and set down a measuring cup on the table next to Armin.
Sure enough, the measurement was one cup. No more, no less. “How?”
"Magic." Jean teased as he brought the six large pots full of water to the fires. "Equal measurements on sugar and salt in each, if you please."
Armin laughed and went about following Jean’s directions. He realized that the other was teaching his visual and tactile shorthands as more of an excuse to lean in close and touch Armin, while putting together a recipe that would feed almost two-hundred. “Teaching me how to cook without notes, making sure Connie and Sasha prep not eat the ingredients, starting to believe you really do know magic.”
"Nah, my dad was a cook. This is what he was wanting me to do instead of fighting titans. But if a twerpy little librarian from Shiganshina can do it…"
"You can be the pride of the jerkass cooks in Trost."
"Ugh, get a room you two." Connie groaned comically as he sauntered over basket of prepped vegetables in hand. "I can only pretend to not see so much."