[ Drake makes a soft, sympathetic 'oof' sound, shedding his soaked boxers and wrapping a towel around his waist. It's nothing Sharkface hasn't seen before, after all. Then he's carefully making his way out of the bathroom, headed for clothes. He's ready to be dry and warm.
[ Sharkface nods and heads back into the kitchen for a glass. Who knows what the long term affects of this stuff will end up being? Best thing is to keep Drake hydrated for now.
He pads back in and sets the glass on the nightstand. ]
[ Hey, dry clothes. Sharkface nods in thanks and starts stripping out of his wet ones. Whatever issues he has with touch, he's not body shy. Not really, not at the end of the day. Modesty was the first thing the instructors killed in training. ]
[ He flashes Drake a faint smile. He's looking forward to that food. And then he starts his work, humming a little under his breath as he goes. It's detail work, it takes focus. He could use that right now.
Bit by bit, he finds a rhythm. Bit by bit, he settles. ]
[ Drake watches for awhile, until the lines appearing on the wall are so blurry he has to close his eyes. And then he naps to the familiar sound of Sharkface humming while he paints. It's comforting.
[ The work carries him through for a while. Sharkface works quietly, putting lines up on the wall. Blocking for the project to follow. He likes to lay things out first, figure out how the elements will interact. And for a while, he loses himself in the process.
He keeps track of time, though, and he sets his pencils and ruler down when it comes around time for dinner. He steps over to Drake's side and reaches out to touch his arm, gentle. ]
[ Drake stirs blearily, opening his eyes to see that familiar face filling his field of vision. For a moment he's confused -- this isn't their room -- but then it comes back to him. Luckily before he could reach up and playfully tumble his partner back into bed for cuddles. Instead he reaches up and rubs at his eyes like a sleepy child. ]
[ Whenever Sharkface's expression softens like that at him, Drake wants to kiss him. It's a problem. He smiles back quietly instead, pushing himself up to sitting.
He feels better. Clearer, if still a little overwarm even though he fell asleep without the blanket. Good that the drugs are flushing out. ]
I'll get things started. You wanna hang out with me, or keep painting?
I'd love that. I can explain what I'm doing, but it's all pretty easy. You'll see.
[ He gets up, detouring briefly to pull on a t-shirt, and leads Sharkface back to the kitchen. ]
Okay so this is really just throwing whatever you've got in the pan, the secret to it's the order you cook things in, and the sauce. Some vegetables cook faster than others.
[ Drake opens the fridge, pulling out meat and a variety of vegetables -- chicken and carrots, broccoli, peppers, snap peas -- then a cupboard for onion and garlic. He explains that the carrots and peppers will take a little longer and that onions should always go in first but garlic will burn. Still, it's just throwing everything in one pan. Not as hard as it might sound. ]
But first we're going to make a marinade for the meat so it can sit while we chop up and start the vegetables. Do you want to help or just watch?
I'll chop, then, give the meat some time to marinate.
[ He pulls down some bottles and spices from an upper cupboard and makes a quick sauce, explaining the basic proportions, then offers the spoon for Sharkface to taste it before he adds it to the bowl of meat. He's trying not to bombard the other man with too much information at once, but on the other hand, Sharkface learns fast. It'll balance out. ]
We'll hold back a little and add cornstarch towards the end, putting that in will thicken it up.
[ It's like chemistry, in a way. Sharkface never did so hot at that in high school, but he picks things up quick. There are clear rules, a logic he can follow, and then you get food at the end. What's not to like? He nods along as Drake explains, watching closely. ]
[ Drake keeps going, putting the meat to marinate and starting to chop the vegetables. ]
My ma was a terrible cook, but she watched a ton of cooking shows.... I picked a bit up from that, I guess. Learned just enough to impress a date. But I didn't really have to cook regularly until Hadriel where takeout wasn't an option. Everything there was terrible canned shit unless you made friends with somebody who had a garden, or fished, you know?
[ And he'd made friends with all of those people, because he had someone to feed. Someone he wanted healthy, someone who lit up tasting things he'd never had before. Drake smiles a little. ]
The other you, he didn't complain, but admitted he missed things. So I figured out how to make them. Wasn't easy... the way I was there, I couldn't taste much, but our friend Lup helped a lot. And after years of cooking every day it turns out you get pretty good at it.
[ They haven’t talked about Hadriel and that other version of him in a while. Truthfully, Sharkface doesn’t want to know. It just knots things up and he isn’t that man, cannot be that man, so why dwell and just make it more complicated?
But it happened. It mattered. And now -
Sharkface rocks back on his heels, uncertain all over again. ]
Guess you would. It’s better than prison food. A lot better.
[ And it’s clear how much Drake cared for that other version of him. ]
[ Drake doesn't plan on drawing it out -- just enough to answer the question. His partner missed things; he figured out how to make them. But he can tell even that made Sharkface a little uncomfortable so he seizes on the new topic. ]
Prison food was awful, agreed. I can only imagine it's worse in space, too.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[ A bad night all around. Sharkface steps back, watching Drake carefully the whole time. ]
All right. You want me to get you some more water?
no subject
He smiles a little at the offer, nodding. ]
That'd be great, yeah.
no subject
He pads back in and sets the glass on the nightstand. ]
You good? Not seeing double or anything?
no subject
Not anymore. I'm still dizzy, though. It's kind of like being super high past the point of it being fun.
[ He leans back against the headboard tiredly, sipping his water. ]
I might fall asleep while you're painting. If you hear the laundry singing can you put stuff in the dryer?
no subject
Yeah, I can do that. I'll keep an eye on you.
[ They'll be okay. ]
no subject
Sorry you have to babysit me. I know this isn't what you signed up for when you said you'd stay.
no subject
's all right. You've looked after me plenty.
[ Drake didn't have to go back to the Down with him. But he did. And so, here they are. ]
Just rest.
no subject
[ He does settle down, though, lying facing the blank wall so he can watch Sharkface paint while he's trying to nod off. ]
no subject
[ He flashes Drake a faint smile. He's looking forward to that food. And then he starts his work, humming a little under his breath as he goes. It's detail work, it takes focus. He could use that right now.
Bit by bit, he finds a rhythm. Bit by bit, he settles. ]
no subject
He doesn't wake up on his own, please wake him. ]
no subject
He keeps track of time, though, and he sets his pencils and ruler down when it comes around time for dinner. He steps over to Drake's side and reaches out to touch his arm, gentle. ]
Hey.
no subject
Hey. Dinnertime?
no subject
Hey. Yeah, figured it was that time.
no subject
He feels better. Clearer, if still a little overwarm even though he fell asleep without the blanket. Good that the drugs are flushing out. ]
I'll get things started. You wanna hang out with me, or keep painting?
no subject
[ Might as well get some idea of how it goes. He wants to learn, anyway. ]
no subject
[ He gets up, detouring briefly to pull on a t-shirt, and leads Sharkface back to the kitchen. ]
Okay so this is really just throwing whatever you've got in the pan, the secret to it's the order you cook things in, and the sauce. Some vegetables cook faster than others.
no subject
Yeah? Like what?
no subject
But first we're going to make a marinade for the meat so it can sit while we chop up and start the vegetables. Do you want to help or just watch?
no subject
[ Take it all in. ]
Unless you want me to chop stuff. I can probably do that just fine.
no subject
[ He pulls down some bottles and spices from an upper cupboard and makes a quick sauce, explaining the basic proportions, then offers the spoon for Sharkface to taste it before he adds it to the bowl of meat. He's trying not to bombard the other man with too much information at once, but on the other hand, Sharkface learns fast. It'll balance out. ]
We'll hold back a little and add cornstarch towards the end, putting that in will thicken it up.
no subject
How'd you learn this stuff anyway?
no subject
My ma was a terrible cook, but she watched a ton of cooking shows.... I picked a bit up from that, I guess. Learned just enough to impress a date. But I didn't really have to cook regularly until Hadriel where takeout wasn't an option. Everything there was terrible canned shit unless you made friends with somebody who had a garden, or fished, you know?
[ And he'd made friends with all of those people, because he had someone to feed. Someone he wanted healthy, someone who lit up tasting things he'd never had before. Drake smiles a little. ]
The other you, he didn't complain, but admitted he missed things. So I figured out how to make them. Wasn't easy... the way I was there, I couldn't taste much, but our friend Lup helped a lot. And after years of cooking every day it turns out you get pretty good at it.
no subject
But it happened. It mattered. And now -
Sharkface rocks back on his heels, uncertain all over again. ]
Guess you would. It’s better than prison food. A lot better.
[ And it’s clear how much Drake cared for that other version of him. ]
no subject
Prison food was awful, agreed. I can only imagine it's worse in space, too.
no subject
How long were you in for?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)