puckandpie: (pie!!)
Eric Bittle ([personal profile] puckandpie) wrote2016-01-24 05:54 pm
Entry tags:

a weighty request [dated for 1/22]

Not only have I been asked to bake pies for Dean Winchester's birthday, but I've been asked by Derek and Dean's husband, a real life actual angel. Derek asking me would have been enough for me to say yes, of course, but being surprised by an angel had made thinking of any other response absolutely impossible.

Again, not that it was really on the table to begin with.

I have two and a half days to get them all done and I'm not really worried, but I have work tonight and I'd like to film and edit something for my vlog at some point tomorrow so I need to get started. I'm elbow-deep in the mix for the salted caramel cookie pie when I hear a light knock on my door.

"Oh, one second!" I call out, quickly wiping my hands on my apron after I set the bowl aside and hurrying to the door.

I feel a smile break across my face when I see who it is, immediately holding the door wide to let him in. "Jack! Hi! Come in."
eatmoreprotein: (eye contact)

[personal profile] eatmoreprotein 2016-02-01 07:12 am (UTC)(link)
"I feel like I need to go for a run just hearing the name," I say with a chuckle. He hands me a spoon and I reach out to take it, looking at the batter and then darting forward to try and catch a drop with my tongue. I'm still moving a little slow, so it lands on my lip instead. I lick it off and then slide the spoon into my mouth, humming in approval at the taste.

"This is amazing," I say, nodding and licking the spoon clean. There's one drop left, and I scoop it up and bring my finger down to Elvis, laughing a little when he licks it up with his rough tongue. "Délicieux, non?"
eatmoreprotein: (flour flirt)

[personal profile] eatmoreprotein 2016-02-01 08:54 am (UTC)(link)
"Oh, he wouldn't do that-- ow!" The cat does, in fact, bite down on my finger and I laugh, shaking my hand out. "Tu me trahis."

Elvis meows and purrs, rubbing up against me, and I find that I can't even stay mad. I never would have thought that I would be a cat person, but maybe I am.

"Oui, that'd be good," I tell him, grabbing a clean spoon and dipping it into the batter, giving Bittle an innocent look. "I go in the afternoon, usually. I wouldn't mind the company."
eatmoreprotein: (pie flirt)

[personal profile] eatmoreprotein 2016-02-01 09:24 pm (UTC)(link)
“Spray him with water?” I repeat, looking down at Elvis and petting his head. “I thought cats hated—oh, that’s the point. Though, I do thank you for thinking my reflexes are quick enough to get bit and grab the bottle at the same time.”

When he smacks my hand, I can’t help but to laugh just a little. I do manage to pull the spoon away and I stick it in my mouth before he can take it from me, sucking the batter from the metal before setting it into the sink.

“I would like that,” I say quietly. As much as I would like to sometimes, I really don’t want to take up too much of Bittle’s time. But the thought of having a routine, even one as basic as lunch and a run with a friend, is comforting.

Bittle has the filling inside the crust and I peer over at it, hesitating for a moment before finally speaking. “Are you going to do a lattice top on that one? I could do it if you want to start on the next one.”
eatmoreprotein: (eye contact)

[personal profile] eatmoreprotein 2016-02-02 01:38 am (UTC)(link)
I’m fiddling with the cat’s whiskers when suddenly I’m covered in a fine mist of water, and Elvis lets out an unhappy yowl before scrambling out of my lap, leaving stinging little lines on my thighs. My mouth drops open in mock outrage and surprise and I reach over to snatch the bottle away, squirting Bittle once in the face. “No. Bad Bittle.”

When he says that there’s no lattice, I can’t help but to deflate a little. I want to prove to Bittle that we work well together, on and off the ice. I want to show him what he’s taught me, maybe make him proud.

“Oh, oui.” I perk up a bit and nod, sliding off of the counter and washing my hands before getting the dough out. All of his supplies are laid out and I grab a rolling pin and the flour sifter, looking over at him with a smile. “Prepare to be amazed, bien-aimé.”
eatmoreprotein: (sweet boy)

[personal profile] eatmoreprotein 2016-02-02 06:48 am (UTC)(link)
"Of course not, mon chou," I tell him with a smirk, pulling the dough over. I dust it with flour and then roll it out, tongue peeking out in concentration. After our final, and how I failed so drastically at this the first time I attempted it, I made it my mission to perfect the lattice pie topping. I would pop into the kitchen when Bittle was baking offer (insist) to help, working at this damn lattice top until I made one that pie master Bittle himself approved of.

I roll out the dough until it's flat, and then I grab a knife. I'm still the slightest bit out of it, so I move slowly and carefully, cutting the dough into even strips.
eatmoreprotein: (flour flirt)

[personal profile] eatmoreprotein 2016-02-02 05:05 pm (UTC)(link)
"Oui." I lay all my dough strips out neatly and ball up the rest, setting it aside in case either of us need it later. "It was part of our final, and I wasn't about to sit back and let you do all the work."

The filling looks good, and I set about assembling the lattice with determination, fingers working carefully as I weave the strips together. "It's kind of relaxing, eh? I can see why you like it."

Baking will never be my hobby, and I'll never be good at it like Bittle, but this is nice. Helping him out in the kitchen has always been nice, even when I end up covered in flour from chirping Bittle too many times.
eatmoreprotein: (sheepish)

[personal profile] eatmoreprotein 2016-02-04 06:57 am (UTC)(link)
A proud sort of smile graces my face, and I perk up a bit at the praise. This is pretty soothing, really. I nod when he asks me to do the bottom crust, and I carefully move the lattice top aside on some parchment paper and then roll out the rest of the dough, getting it nice and even.

"There you go," I say, sounding a little like a third grader who just drew something for the fridge. I smile sheepishly, cheeks a little pink as I look over at him. "Told you we were good at this."
eatmoreprotein: (sheepish)

[personal profile] eatmoreprotein 2016-02-05 01:24 am (UTC)(link)
"Of course you did," I say dryly, but I can't deny that his praise makes something settle inside of me, warm and pleased. I watch him prepare the crust in easy, methodical motions and it's almost like being in the kitchen at the Haus. Sometimes I would sit at the kitchen table and work on assignments while Bittle baked. It was always sort of soothing.

"It looks pretty good," I assure him, stepping out of the way when he starts to move around. Bittle says he'll name it after us and my cheeks go warm for some reason. "Nah, I barely did anything. I'm sure he'll like it, though."

I bite my lip, working up the nerve to speak. "Maple sugar crusted apple. That's my favorite pie. You haven't made it since I got here, so I figured you didn't remember. But that's my favorite."
eatmoreprotein: (flour flirt)

[personal profile] eatmoreprotein 2016-02-05 03:35 am (UTC)(link)
"No, it's just-- I never really had a lot of sugar," I tell him. It's true, I didn't, and I was chubby until puberty anyway. My mom says that I must have been storing it all up, because one summer I shot up seven inches and was suddenly skinny as a rail.

I know that isn't all of it. Bittle bothered me at first, truly bothered me for reasons that I don't even think that I could explain if I tried. He made me feel jealous and awkward, made my face flush hot at random times. He so easily earned my father's praise when it's all I've ever wanted.

Bittle changed things. He threw a cog into my perfectly organized life, but I learned to live with it. More than that, I learned to need it.

"But your pies are good," I assure him. Sure, I've never eaten as much as the rest of the guys, but it was hard for me to get into a mindset where sweets at any time was okay. Sitting on the roof with a pie and a fork wasn't something I ever had, not until Shitty dragged me and Bittle out there to have it.
eatmoreprotein: (dat jaw tho)

[personal profile] eatmoreprotein 2016-02-06 01:17 am (UTC)(link)
"Oh. There's no rush," I assure him, feeling my cheeks go warm and I don't even know why. My hand goes up to rub at the back of my neck and I lean back against the fridge, shrugging one shoulder awkwardly. "I just-- I wanted you to know, I guess."

The moment hangs between us, quiet and a little awkward, and I clear my throat. The drugs are wearing off and I feel a little less sluggish, a little more aware of myself. I'm not sure that's a good thing. "Is there anything else I can do to help?"
eatmoreprotein: (suspicion)

[personal profile] eatmoreprotein 2016-02-07 04:45 am (UTC)(link)
"Does mine tell you that I'm Canadian? Heh." I watch him finish getting the pie ready and think about his offer. I am getting pretty tired as the pills wear off, but I don't really want to sleep just yet. Mostly, I don't want to be alone.

"TV is fine." After getting myself a glass of water, I head to the living room and sit down on the sofa, pulling my bare feet up under myself. "The history channel here is strange, and there's no ESPN."

That's all the TV that I watched back home.
eatmoreprotein: (cocky)

[personal profile] eatmoreprotein 2016-02-07 05:31 am (UTC)(link)
"Je suis ce que je suis," I call out. The remote is on the table and I make a face at trash reality TV, not reaching out to grab it. "Mon petit!"

My voice is pitched high, and I smile triumphantly when the cat comes out and jumps onto my lap. There's a tiny piece of pie dough hidden in my palm and I hold it out, laughing a little as Elvis snaps it up.

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