[ 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.
[ In his old life, Sharkface wouldn’t have called two years a long time. Then everything blew up in his face and he ended up in prison, and time changed its equations for him. He exhales slowly, nodding. ]
I don't mind talking about it. But you might look at me a little differently after hearing the story.
[ It's just a warning, not a way of getting out of telling it. ]
My father split when I was little, and my ma had this string of abusive loser boyfriends. The worst was this guy named Frank... so I'm 19 and I come home and find ma in the kitchen, crying. Black eye, blood all over. And Frank's watching tv with his hand down his pants, calling out for another beer. I'd just had enough, you know? We got into it, and he pulled a knife... and something in me snapped. I think I would've killed him if ma hadn't pulled me off, I just kept going after he was down. I didn't. But it turned out I paralyzed him.
[ Finished chopping, Drake sets the knife down to rummage in the cupboard for the bottle of oil. He's not looking at Sharkface, not yet. ]
I did my time. I got help for my temper. But that happened. I pled guilty.
[ He's not certain what to expect when Drake begins telling the story and so he just rocks back on his heels and listens, taking it in. Drake keeps working as he lays it out, one detail after another.
Oh, Sharkface thinks, and exhales. ]
I'm sorry. That's a hell of a thing to go through.
[ Drake finally looks back at Sharkface, nodding slightly in acknowledgment of his sympathy. ]
Everybody's got something in their past, right? Some defining moment.
[ It doesn't compare, in his mind, to Sharkface losing his whole family. But in a way, it was a turning point for him just like that was for the other man. A moment after which, they decided who they were going to be.
It's not so different. ]
Anyway, uh... can you fill that pot with water for the noodles? I'm gonna start actually cooking things, finally.
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[ He does settle down, though, lying facing the blank wall so he can watch Sharkface paint while he's trying to nod off. ]
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[ 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. ]
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He doesn't wake up on his own, please wake him. ]
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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.
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Hey. Dinnertime?
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Hey. Yeah, figured it was that time.
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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?
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[ Might as well get some idea of how it goes. He wants to learn, anyway. ]
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[ 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.
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Yeah? Like what?
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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?
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[ Take it all in. ]
Unless you want me to chop stuff. I can probably do that just fine.
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[ 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.
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How'd you learn this stuff anyway?
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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.
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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. ]
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Prison food was awful, agreed. I can only imagine it's worse in space, too.
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How long were you in for?
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About two years. I got really lucky with my sentence.
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Lucky how?
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[ He shrugs, finishing up with the peppers. ]
I was pretty young, too.
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I won’t ask, if you don’t want me to.
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[ It's just a warning, not a way of getting out of telling it. ]
My father split when I was little, and my ma had this string of abusive loser boyfriends. The worst was this guy named Frank... so I'm 19 and I come home and find ma in the kitchen, crying. Black eye, blood all over. And Frank's watching tv with his hand down his pants, calling out for another beer. I'd just had enough, you know? We got into it, and he pulled a knife... and something in me snapped. I think I would've killed him if ma hadn't pulled me off, I just kept going after he was down. I didn't. But it turned out I paralyzed him.
[ Finished chopping, Drake sets the knife down to rummage in the cupboard for the bottle of oil. He's not looking at Sharkface, not yet. ]
I did my time. I got help for my temper. But that happened. I pled guilty.
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Oh, Sharkface thinks, and exhales. ]
I'm sorry. That's a hell of a thing to go through.
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Everybody's got something in their past, right? Some defining moment.
[ It doesn't compare, in his mind, to Sharkface losing his whole family. But in a way, it was a turning point for him just like that was for the other man. A moment after which, they decided who they were going to be.
It's not so different. ]
Anyway, uh... can you fill that pot with water for the noodles? I'm gonna start actually cooking things, finally.
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