![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ax_hex posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ax_mainPercy meets Jean-Paul during a culinary disaster.
Baking was nothing like any kind of science Percy knew of and whomever it was that had once upon a time suggested as much deserved to be strung up by their toes. Though cooking and many different sciences involved well-tested rules, precise steps and careful measurements, cooking, it turned out, was infinitely more difficult.
With an aggravated sound, Percy dumped a ginger cake that tasted more burnt than gingery into the rubbish. He wiped his hands on the only saving grace of this disastrous adventure--the apron that had protected his clothes from almost certain ruin--and then returned to the counter for attempt number three. By the law of averages, this one had to go better.
Jean-Paul was used to the other students being up and about during all hours, so another body in the kitchen at one in the morning wasn't exactly surprising. The smell of baking failures, though, was less expected. And engendered unexpected sympathy. Jean-Paul knew how to cook. Baking was another thing entirely, and he had more losses than wins in that category.
"I see the dark arts have claimed another soul," he said as he headed for the fridge.
“Greater men then I have fallen to desperation,” Percy said, looking up from the recipe.
"Why the desperation, if I might pry?”
Percy’s smile was wry as if to say why else? “My boyfriend’s birthday.”
"Ah." Jean-Paul nodded. "That is an occasion for heroic feats." Curiosity got the better of him, and he sidled over to have a look at the recipe. "Where's the sticking point?”
Percy turned the recipe toward Jean-Paul. “Half of the first cake collapsed, and this one tasted horrible. I’m not sure what I’m doing wrong.” Which was incredibly frustrating for him as he’d always been excellent at solving problems.
Jean-Paul looked over the recipe, then the ingredients. Everything looked fine to him, and presumably the guy was literate, so he'd gotten the measurements right. Weird.
"This all looks right. So, we look at the symptoms, non? Collapse and tasting off." Collapse first. What made a cake rise? Jean-Paul looked to the ingredients again. Oh.
He held up the small, pale-blue box.
"This is probably the culprit. I think you used baking powder instead of baking soda.”
Percy looked at the light blue offender in embarrassment. How could he have confused two completely different ingredients? That was the kind of mistake that could get you killed in his workshop. "I must have grabbed the wrong one," he said, taking the baking powder.
Jean-Paul vanished into the pantry and emerged with a slight fatter, blue box literally an instant later. "Same brand, and it looks like they were right next to each other. Easy mistake to make.”
“You needn’t protect my pride. It was a stupid mistake,” Percy said as he accepted the box from Jean-Paul. “But, thank you.”
"I was being more critical of whoever decided it was a good idea to put two near-identical ingredients right next to each other." Jean-Paul shrugged. "Percy, right?”
“Yes. And, it’s Jean-Paul?” Percy moved the baking powder far, far away, and set the baking soda down amongst the rest of the ingredients. “I saw you at the MCH charity exhibition.”
Jean-Paul grinned despite himself. As much as he'd bitched about being guilted into fundraising activities, it hadn't been much work for his agent to get him out there for a children's benefit. And it had been a good win.
"I hope I made a good impression, even at a distance.”
"You did." Percy remembered how Julius wouldn't shut-up about it. It had been nonstop Martin this and Martin that and he's a bloody artist. "It was quite the impressive win. You're very talented."
"Merci. That's especially appreciated right now." Jean-Paul stepped aside and let Percy get back to his project. "So who is the lucky boy?”
Me. “Vax.” Beginning to systematically lining about the ingredients, Percy added as an explanation, “Gorgeous. Wears a lot of black.”
"That suits a few of the boys around here," Jean-Paul mused. "But process of elimination gives me a face to put the name to. And yeah, he's hot." But Simon and Warren had him beat, in Jean-Paul's opinion. "Are you going to glaze the cake?"
"Yes." That Percy hadn't even attempted yet since he hadn't been able to get the cake itself right. "His mother used to make this for him."
"Did he say what kind? Most glazes are pretty easy to throw together. Confectioner's sugar and a little liquid is all it takes."
“He didn’t, and I did not know how to ask without it being completely suspicious. The recipes I researched primarily used one of two glazes. One that looks rather traditional, and another that looks more,” Percy paused to decide on what word he’d use to describe it and settled on, “drizzled.”
"I think it's the taste that will matter more than the look," Jean-Paul assured him. "Memories are so strongly tied to food, you know?”
Percy made a quiet, thoughtful sound of agreement. “Well, most of the recipes were the same, so hopefully I’ll at least have that right.”
"It'll probably matter more that you tried. But let me know if you want a hand with the glaze.”
“That’s kind of you to offer.” Confusing too, as Percy couldn’t quite figure out why Jean-Paul was being so kind to him. “You’re Warren’s boyfriend, aren’t you?”
"His and Simon Tam's, yeah." Jean-Paul had been making a habit of letting anyone who didn't seem in the know in on the fact that they came as a set. It was largely because Simon was so uncertain about his place in their triad, and Jean-Paul meant everyone to know that this was an equal deal. "You're friends with Warren?”
So, Percy hadn’t misheard when Warren had said boyfriends. Interesting. Outside of religions that practiced in polygamy, he hadn’t known there was such a thing. “Acquaintances,” he answered as he started methodically adding the ingredients together. “He’s the good sort. I’ve not met Simon.”
"Simon's another good guy," Jean-Paul assured him. "The overly responsible genius type. I'm mostly around to make sure neither of them starve to death while they're trying to save the world.”
“Someone needs to do the dirty work,” Percy joked with a bit of a smile.
"You must not have seen the appetites that come with physical mutations if you think that's a joke. We're learning to love the cafeteria.”
Percy paused to check the recipe. “I don’t doubt it. Do all three of you have mutations that affect your appetite?”
"Warren and I do for sure." Jean-Paul laughed and brushed his hair out of his eyes. "Simon probably does, but it's hard to tell. He's all gentlemanly and stuff."
Percy couldn't help but smile to himself. That sounded not all too dissimilar from how Vax may describe him. "I feel Simon and I would get along. Or, at the very least, commiserate."
"Hey!" But the words were delivered with a laugh. "I'll have you know, we dote on Simon. It's not our fault he can't always appreciate it!”
Appreciate or accept, Percy wondered. The two could look very similar to one another. He knew that he, for one, appreciated every second Vax gave him. His problem lay in his inability to express it well, or to even understand it. “The eternal struggle of the ‘gentlemanly and stuff’.” he joked dryly.
"Exactly. He needs to spend more time around ruffians and wear off a little of that polish." A joke, of course. Simon was damn near perfect as he was. He just needed more confidence in areas not related to medicine. "Oh, well. I guess we can only ask so much of people.”
Percy took hold of the bowl and started stirring the ingredients together. He felt confident he had the recipe right, but he’d felt confident last time as well, so only time would tell. “Are you sure? That sounds fake,” he joked.
Jean-Paul snorted. "All right, how about 'there's only so much of our shit people will put up with’?"
Percy chuckled quietly. “I believe I read that in a fortune cookie somewhere.” He paused long enough to check the contents of the bowl, which were still too lumpy for his liking, and then started to stir again.
"Probably. Or a restroom wall." Jean-Paul collected an apple from the fridge. "If you want help with the glaze, I don't really have anywhere to be.”
Considering what a disaster his solo attempts at a cake had been, it would be foolish of Percy to turn away help, no matter what his pride may say. “I’d appreciate that, thank you.”
Baking was nothing like any kind of science Percy knew of and whomever it was that had once upon a time suggested as much deserved to be strung up by their toes. Though cooking and many different sciences involved well-tested rules, precise steps and careful measurements, cooking, it turned out, was infinitely more difficult.
With an aggravated sound, Percy dumped a ginger cake that tasted more burnt than gingery into the rubbish. He wiped his hands on the only saving grace of this disastrous adventure--the apron that had protected his clothes from almost certain ruin--and then returned to the counter for attempt number three. By the law of averages, this one had to go better.
Jean-Paul was used to the other students being up and about during all hours, so another body in the kitchen at one in the morning wasn't exactly surprising. The smell of baking failures, though, was less expected. And engendered unexpected sympathy. Jean-Paul knew how to cook. Baking was another thing entirely, and he had more losses than wins in that category.
"I see the dark arts have claimed another soul," he said as he headed for the fridge.
“Greater men then I have fallen to desperation,” Percy said, looking up from the recipe.
"Why the desperation, if I might pry?”
Percy’s smile was wry as if to say why else? “My boyfriend’s birthday.”
"Ah." Jean-Paul nodded. "That is an occasion for heroic feats." Curiosity got the better of him, and he sidled over to have a look at the recipe. "Where's the sticking point?”
Percy turned the recipe toward Jean-Paul. “Half of the first cake collapsed, and this one tasted horrible. I’m not sure what I’m doing wrong.” Which was incredibly frustrating for him as he’d always been excellent at solving problems.
Jean-Paul looked over the recipe, then the ingredients. Everything looked fine to him, and presumably the guy was literate, so he'd gotten the measurements right. Weird.
"This all looks right. So, we look at the symptoms, non? Collapse and tasting off." Collapse first. What made a cake rise? Jean-Paul looked to the ingredients again. Oh.
He held up the small, pale-blue box.
"This is probably the culprit. I think you used baking powder instead of baking soda.”
Percy looked at the light blue offender in embarrassment. How could he have confused two completely different ingredients? That was the kind of mistake that could get you killed in his workshop. "I must have grabbed the wrong one," he said, taking the baking powder.
Jean-Paul vanished into the pantry and emerged with a slight fatter, blue box literally an instant later. "Same brand, and it looks like they were right next to each other. Easy mistake to make.”
“You needn’t protect my pride. It was a stupid mistake,” Percy said as he accepted the box from Jean-Paul. “But, thank you.”
"I was being more critical of whoever decided it was a good idea to put two near-identical ingredients right next to each other." Jean-Paul shrugged. "Percy, right?”
“Yes. And, it’s Jean-Paul?” Percy moved the baking powder far, far away, and set the baking soda down amongst the rest of the ingredients. “I saw you at the MCH charity exhibition.”
Jean-Paul grinned despite himself. As much as he'd bitched about being guilted into fundraising activities, it hadn't been much work for his agent to get him out there for a children's benefit. And it had been a good win.
"I hope I made a good impression, even at a distance.”
"You did." Percy remembered how Julius wouldn't shut-up about it. It had been nonstop Martin this and Martin that and he's a bloody artist. "It was quite the impressive win. You're very talented."
"Merci. That's especially appreciated right now." Jean-Paul stepped aside and let Percy get back to his project. "So who is the lucky boy?”
Me. “Vax.” Beginning to systematically lining about the ingredients, Percy added as an explanation, “Gorgeous. Wears a lot of black.”
"That suits a few of the boys around here," Jean-Paul mused. "But process of elimination gives me a face to put the name to. And yeah, he's hot." But Simon and Warren had him beat, in Jean-Paul's opinion. "Are you going to glaze the cake?"
"Yes." That Percy hadn't even attempted yet since he hadn't been able to get the cake itself right. "His mother used to make this for him."
"Did he say what kind? Most glazes are pretty easy to throw together. Confectioner's sugar and a little liquid is all it takes."
“He didn’t, and I did not know how to ask without it being completely suspicious. The recipes I researched primarily used one of two glazes. One that looks rather traditional, and another that looks more,” Percy paused to decide on what word he’d use to describe it and settled on, “drizzled.”
"I think it's the taste that will matter more than the look," Jean-Paul assured him. "Memories are so strongly tied to food, you know?”
Percy made a quiet, thoughtful sound of agreement. “Well, most of the recipes were the same, so hopefully I’ll at least have that right.”
"It'll probably matter more that you tried. But let me know if you want a hand with the glaze.”
“That’s kind of you to offer.” Confusing too, as Percy couldn’t quite figure out why Jean-Paul was being so kind to him. “You’re Warren’s boyfriend, aren’t you?”
"His and Simon Tam's, yeah." Jean-Paul had been making a habit of letting anyone who didn't seem in the know in on the fact that they came as a set. It was largely because Simon was so uncertain about his place in their triad, and Jean-Paul meant everyone to know that this was an equal deal. "You're friends with Warren?”
So, Percy hadn’t misheard when Warren had said boyfriends. Interesting. Outside of religions that practiced in polygamy, he hadn’t known there was such a thing. “Acquaintances,” he answered as he started methodically adding the ingredients together. “He’s the good sort. I’ve not met Simon.”
"Simon's another good guy," Jean-Paul assured him. "The overly responsible genius type. I'm mostly around to make sure neither of them starve to death while they're trying to save the world.”
“Someone needs to do the dirty work,” Percy joked with a bit of a smile.
"You must not have seen the appetites that come with physical mutations if you think that's a joke. We're learning to love the cafeteria.”
Percy paused to check the recipe. “I don’t doubt it. Do all three of you have mutations that affect your appetite?”
"Warren and I do for sure." Jean-Paul laughed and brushed his hair out of his eyes. "Simon probably does, but it's hard to tell. He's all gentlemanly and stuff."
Percy couldn't help but smile to himself. That sounded not all too dissimilar from how Vax may describe him. "I feel Simon and I would get along. Or, at the very least, commiserate."
"Hey!" But the words were delivered with a laugh. "I'll have you know, we dote on Simon. It's not our fault he can't always appreciate it!”
Appreciate or accept, Percy wondered. The two could look very similar to one another. He knew that he, for one, appreciated every second Vax gave him. His problem lay in his inability to express it well, or to even understand it. “The eternal struggle of the ‘gentlemanly and stuff’.” he joked dryly.
"Exactly. He needs to spend more time around ruffians and wear off a little of that polish." A joke, of course. Simon was damn near perfect as he was. He just needed more confidence in areas not related to medicine. "Oh, well. I guess we can only ask so much of people.”
Percy took hold of the bowl and started stirring the ingredients together. He felt confident he had the recipe right, but he’d felt confident last time as well, so only time would tell. “Are you sure? That sounds fake,” he joked.
Jean-Paul snorted. "All right, how about 'there's only so much of our shit people will put up with’?"
Percy chuckled quietly. “I believe I read that in a fortune cookie somewhere.” He paused long enough to check the contents of the bowl, which were still too lumpy for his liking, and then started to stir again.
"Probably. Or a restroom wall." Jean-Paul collected an apple from the fridge. "If you want help with the glaze, I don't really have anywhere to be.”
Considering what a disaster his solo attempts at a cake had been, it would be foolish of Percy to turn away help, no matter what his pride may say. “I’d appreciate that, thank you.”
