julesnoctambule (julesnoctambule) wrote in lupin_snape, @ 2008-08-31 23:20:00 |
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Entry tags: | fic: pg13, prompt: fantasy fest 08 |
Fantasy Fest Fic: An Acquired Taste
Title: An Acquired Taste
Author: Jules Noctambule
Rating: PG-13
Challenge: Fantasy Fest 2008
Short prompt: A domestic scene, established relationship -- a trip to the market. Remus has a taste for something Severus dislikes.
Warnings: Contains durian, haggis and other possibly objectionable foodstuffs.
Summary: Even in love, not everyone’s tastes are the same.
‘Just taste it,’ Remus urged, his voice coaxing and sweet. ‘You’ll never know if you like it or not if you never try a single bite.’
Severus pulled back to the edge of the picnic blanket and eyed the creamy spoonful with distaste that bordered on disgust. ‘If it tastes anything like it smells, I am certain I am not missing a thing.’
‘For the last time, durian does not smell bad! It smells. . .different. It’s unique.’
‘Unique except for all the rotting things that smell just like it.’ He wrinkled his nose, then reached for the last of the delicious Thai-style eggplant partly because it, unlike the durian, was delicious and partly out of spite, since he was rather full already. ‘Why don’t you save some back to roll in during the next full moon?’
‘I do not roll when I’m transformed! Not any more, at least.’ With an expression of delight on his face, Remus tucked into the fragrant fruit with vigour. ‘You’d like it if you tried it, I bet. It’s an acquired taste.’
‘That’s what you always say. What you fail to remember is that it is not a taste I wish to acquire.’
‘There are plenty of other curious flavours you don’t seem to mind. Speaking of which, you certainly fixed the taste of the Wolfsbane right quick as soon as it interfered with your enjoyment of -- ’
Severus shoved a forkful of eggplant into Remus’ mouth before he could complete that particular comment. ‘May I remind you that we are in a public park?’
‘Is that a come-on? Durian is believed to have aphrodisiac qualities, you know.’
‘And this is the point where I could make a joke about necrophilia but I will not.’
‘You know what your problem is, Severus?’
‘That your breath is going to reek of death until we get home?’
‘My breath does not reek! No, the problem is that you’ve lost your sense of adventure.’
‘Clearly, you are forgetting the events of last Thursday afternoon,’ Severus reminded him, his grin smug. The balcony had been Remus’ idea, honestly, but he had been the one to take Remus up on the challenge and, in his own estimation, had done so quite well.
‘I very much doubt my left knee is going to forget that any time soon,’ he said, rubbing the area in question. ‘What I meant is that you aren’t as daring as you used to be. Ten years ago, you’d have bought that durian yourself.’
Severus made sure no Muggles were paying attention before pulling out his wand and charming all the picnic dishes into a tidy stack. ‘Ten years ago I was thirty, in far better shape and still did not like durian. Unless you’re trying to tell me you think I’m getting boring?’
‘No, no; not boring at all!’ Remus smiled, caressing the thermos he was packing away with entirely too much enthusiasm. ‘I’m certain the neighbours will agree after last Thursday. . .but you used to have this spark, this mischief in you. It was. . .nice.’
‘And you used to be able to make love twice a night and still be ready to go the next morning,’ he snapped. ‘We all change, Remus, whether or not we like it.’
Later that evening, halfway through the crossword puzzle he was working on while Remus knit yet another pair of socks, Severus conceded that the man might indeed have a point. He had grown habitual, predictable. Perhaps, yes, even boring, and that simply would not do.
‘If he wants adventurous, I’ll give him adventurous,’ Severus muttered to the paper before him.
Remus looked up from his yarn. ‘What was that?’
‘Er, sixteen down, eight letters, synonym for “sulky”. Any ideas?’
It was at the butcher’s counter that he changed his mind.
It was Friday night, which meant steak and chips. It was always steak and chips on Friday night and had been for years, but when the butcher asked Severus if he’d like his regular cut, he found himself saying ‘Not tonight, thank you’ and turning to the seafood counter instead, where his eyes landed on an especially lovely pile of mussels.
Severus bought three pounds, plus some nice greens for a salad and a bottle of wine that was better than the one he planned to use to cook the mussels. By the time Remus came home, the table was set and air was filled with the scent of herbs and the briny-sweet aroma of mussels.
Remus walked into the dining room, started to sit down and then paused, frowning. ‘What’s this?’
‘Mussels and chips, salad and wine. Why, what does it look like?’
‘But it’s Friday.’
Severus decided that any more time spent discussing the matter was eating gone to waste and dished up a bowl full of mussels. ‘And?’
‘But we have steak and chips on Friday.’ Remus sat down but didn’t partake. ‘We always do; we have done for years.’
‘And tonight we’re having something different. By the way, sixteen down, eight letters was “petulant”. Which you are now being.’
‘But. . . .’
‘You’re the one who wanted me to be adventurous.’
‘Well. . . .’ Remus dipped a chip in the broth around the mussels and considered the matter. ‘All right. But only if I get to cook tomorrow.’
Once he was promised it wouldn’t be something like squid with durian sauce or Remus’ personal favourite of anything he had handy, heavily wrapped in bacon and grilled, Severus agreed.
It was only after he sat down to supper on Saturday night that Severus realised he’d neglected to be as specific as he should have been.
Remus, who had spent the better part of the afternoon in the kitchen, revealed the dish like a prize. ‘Well, what do you think?’
Hoping to spare Remus’ feeling as much as he could, Severus held back his true impression of the thing on the plate. He poked it gently with a fork; it jiggled. ‘I think it’s haggis.’
‘Yes, but it’s vegetarian haggis! You know I know how you feel about offal.’
‘But it’s still haggis. I don’t like haggis. I don’t even like the word “haggis”. It sits in the mouth like a wad of something nasty, much like the item itself.’
‘Fine, then. Have some mash and peas.’ He dished out the accompaniments with a scowl on his face and cut into his own haggis with slightly more effort than was truly needed. ‘I thought you said you wanted to be adventurous with your eating.’
‘Adventurous, not stark raving mental. Honestly, have you ever known anyone other than you who eats this stuff while sober?’ Severus asked him around a mouthful of potatoes which were, thankfully, both hot and perfectly fluffy.
Remus stabbed a pea with the tines of his fork, his expression still cloudy. ‘At least I’m not picky.’
Severus stabbed two peas, one on either end of the fork. ‘Considering how you were going on about your precious steak and chips last night, I’d think you’d be the last one to judge!’
‘I happen to like steak and chips night. It’s what we do, and I like that.’
‘So you like routine but you want variety. Is it any wonder that you confuse me sometimes?’
In bed that night, Severus found Remus a little less than receptive to his advances.
‘Are you still angry about the haggis?’
‘No,’ he said, rolling over. ‘I’m just tired and I don’t want to disappoint you again today.’
In the silent darkness, Severus frowned. This absolutely, certainly, positively would not do.
On Monday, he waited until Remus was busy in his study before making up an excuse to do the shopping alone.
‘I think we’re out of milk,’ he called from the kitchen, having finished pouring the lot of it down the drain. ‘I’ll just pop down to the shops and get some more.’
His attention fully directed toward an essay on the role of wizards in Sumerian culture, Remus made some vague noises of affirmation without so much as looking up.
Severus smiled. He gathered up the grocery bags and Apparated to the market.
It was in full swing and bustling with people both buying and selling; the early-morning crowd of shopkeepers and chefs was gone but had been replaced with families out for their daily goods, working people hoping for an early lunch and a few people just soaking up the atmosphere of the place.
All around him baskets of various fruits sparkled like jewels, geometric stacks of vegetables gleamed like abstract sculptures, the scents of fresh breads and ripe cheeses wafted through the air and the chatter and call of the vendors wove it all together like a living tapestry. Severus made his way to the nearest stall and began to choose.
When he returned home, Severus found that Remus had managed to tear himself away from the essay and was standing in front of the refrigerator, a cup of tea in hand, looking perplexed.
He took the bottle of milk from one of his bags and placed it on the counter. ‘You’ll be wanting this, I suppose.’
‘I could have sworn I just bought milk a few days ago,’ Remus said, shaking his head. ‘Maybe I -- Severus? What’s in those bags?’
He bent over the bags, draping his sleeves across them to block the view. ‘Nothing. Go back to your study.’
‘Is that a mangosteen? And is that Roquefort? Severus, you hate Roquefort.’
‘I said, go back to your study. You’ll see.’
Remus did as instructed, slinking away with a smile on his face. Clearly, he suspected something.
Severus waited until he heard the door click shut, and then he began his work in earnest. Curious fruits were cut into attractive shapes, cheeses that smelled of rancid minerals were lavished on to thinly-sliced rounds of bread, fatty cuts of the less popular meats were skewered on toothpicks and when it was completed, Severus waved his wand at the lot of it and headed to the bedroom.
A quick undressing and several careful levitation charms later and all was ready. He flicked his wand toward Remus’ study door and waited.
‘You knocked?’ he said, opening the door. ‘It’s almost time for tea, you know. Have you finish-- oh.’ Remus stopped, blinked, and took in the sight. ‘You’re covered in food.’
‘Strategically so,’ Severus pointed out, trying not to dislodge the slices of pineapple decorating his collarbone.
His eyes lit up. ‘And you’re not wearing any clothes.’
‘Well spotted. If you’re going to skip the appetizer, do mind the toothpicks.’
‘I think I have the appetite for some of that as well,’ Remus assured him, carefully positioning himself on the edge of their bed so as not to disturb anything. ‘This is certainly a surprise. Wait -- don’t tell me this is some kind of important day and I’ve forgotten it.’
‘No, nothing like that.’ Severus shivered as Remus licked the swirl of Nutella off a nipple. ‘I just wanted to make you happy. You get such pleasure from so many foods I simply cannot abide, and I wanted a way I could share them with you that would make us both happy.’
‘Severus. . .at the risk of sounding trite, I have to say that this is quite possibly the most romantic thing you’ve ever done.’ Remus leaned in, sending a piece of Parma ham plummeting to the floor, and kissed him.
When he could catch his breath again, Severus said ‘I’m charmed, really, but this fruit is getting sticky and the cheese smells absolutely vile.’
Remus pulled back, giving him a hungry look. ‘In that case, let’s eat.’