Eric Bittle (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
puckandpie) wrote2016-04-27 03:32 pm
puckandpie) wrote2016-04-27 03:32 pm
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[4/25] baking and a movie
I've honestly been really good about not asking to use Jack's oven too much since mine got replaced by poor, broken Betsy a couple months ago. For the most part, I keep my baking to Semele's kitchen and the cat cafe and, when really in a crunch, Derek's commissary.
It's late tonight though. Too late for both Semele's and the cat cafe and Derek's place just seems so far. So I've broken down and asked Jack and, of course, he's been far too gracious in letting me take over his kitchen for a few hours.
Maybe it helps that I bribed him with the promise of half a batch of maple cream cookies, but it's probably just as likely that Jack is being nice. If absolutely nothing else, he's too Canadian to slam the door in my face.
Macha and Shannon are clearly enjoying my efforts, both nearly as bad as Elvis as far as being underfoot at least until Jack gets them under control in the other room where he's watching something that involves a lot of cannons, Denzel Washington, and the guy who was Wesley in The Princess Bride.
Once the last batch of cookies is out and cooling, I let out a breath and slip out of my apron before wandering into the other room. For a moment or two, I just let myself take in the breadth of Jack's shoulders, the hard lines of his beautiful profile. He looks good like this, warm and comfortable in his own space, not trying to be anyone other than exactly who he is.
Tamping down on the nerves in my belly, I carefully step over Macha to join Jack on the couch, Shannon curled up between us.
"I'll have those cookies I promised you ready in just about fifteen minutes," I tell him, smiling faintly over at him. "Thanks again for letting me use your oven, Jack. I really really appreciate it."
It's late tonight though. Too late for both Semele's and the cat cafe and Derek's place just seems so far. So I've broken down and asked Jack and, of course, he's been far too gracious in letting me take over his kitchen for a few hours.
Maybe it helps that I bribed him with the promise of half a batch of maple cream cookies, but it's probably just as likely that Jack is being nice. If absolutely nothing else, he's too Canadian to slam the door in my face.
Macha and Shannon are clearly enjoying my efforts, both nearly as bad as Elvis as far as being underfoot at least until Jack gets them under control in the other room where he's watching something that involves a lot of cannons, Denzel Washington, and the guy who was Wesley in The Princess Bride.
Once the last batch of cookies is out and cooling, I let out a breath and slip out of my apron before wandering into the other room. For a moment or two, I just let myself take in the breadth of Jack's shoulders, the hard lines of his beautiful profile. He looks good like this, warm and comfortable in his own space, not trying to be anyone other than exactly who he is.
Tamping down on the nerves in my belly, I carefully step over Macha to join Jack on the couch, Shannon curled up between us.
"I'll have those cookies I promised you ready in just about fifteen minutes," I tell him, smiling faintly over at him. "Thanks again for letting me use your oven, Jack. I really really appreciate it."