LOG: Cullen, Penelope, and the Chocolate Cake WHO: Cullen Rutherford and Penelope Featherington WHEN: late into dinnertime on Wednesday, 8 July WHERE: the mess hall WHAT: chocolate cake and mild flirtation WARNINGS: Intense passion for chocolate cake
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Penelope supposed that it was a bit of hyperbole to call the chocolate cake that was now mere crumbs on her dessert plate “life-changing” -- but it was. It would never have occurred to her that chocolate itself could be used in the cake batter, instead of accompanying the cake as a topping or a drink. She’d been doubtful at first, and convinced from the very first bite. It was also necessary to share this revelation. Alison, of course, would be familiar with it, but Cullen -- Penelope wasn’t so certain.
Their conversation over the phones had confirmed this; he was on his way. The seat she saved was next to her, with her tray in front of it. Her tablemates were chatting, making plans for the evening and including her with their plans. It surprised her still that people considered her a friend here, that she was worthy of plans and laughter by them, of shared jokes and experiences. She was still laughing at a remark when Cullen appeared in the doorway. She raised her hand so he would see her, and slid her tray over for him to join them, unknowing of the looks her tablemates shared with each other. It was clear to them, at least, that Penelope was crushing very hard on Cullen.
Cullen lit up with a smile as soon as he saw her wave. He had no idea that Penelope carried the sort of insecurities that she did; he had only ever known her as a friendly, intelligent, lovely woman who seemed to easily make friends everywhere she went. He had never met the shy wallflower of London’s ballrooms, only Mount Weather’s cheerful and personable reading group organizer. He would have been shocked to hear the word “shy” applied to her.
She was entirely too good for him, Cullen thought, for a variety of reasons. The mere fact that she was a lady and he was as common as dirt was really just the beginning of it. She was friendly and good at talking to people, where he knew himself to be awkward and unapproachable. Worse than that, he was a broken and barely glued back together mess of a man whose past was riddled with demons both literal and figurative, and whose mind and body both carried scars. Penelope practically radiated warmth and light and genuine goodness. She could do a thousand times better than him.
She seemed to like spending time with him, though, so Cullen decided to simply ignore how much he would enjoy kissing her and be glad that he had another friend. He hadn’t had many of those in his life, and most of the ones he did manage to make were dead now. If he was doomed to a bit of unrequited passion, well, that was a small price to pay for having another person to play chess and read and talk with.
“So, chocolate...cake?” he asked as he slid into the seat next to her. “I was not aware such a thing was possible.”
She grinned. The fact that chocolate had returned to her diet was wonderful. It had always been her favorite treat at home, and here wasn’t any different. But that it was a very rare treat made it even more special. “I wasn’t either, so I had to ask what it was. I don’t know if any of them in the kitchen had ever seen a person who had never seen chocolate cake before.”
Penelope amazed herself by picking up his fork and putting it into his hand, then pointing at the piece of cake sitting so tantalizingly before him. She hid her astonishment with another smile. “You should try it. Now.”
Most of her entirely mundane dinner was left on her tray, and she was hungry still. Good manners bred in her since birth wouldn’t allow her to let Cullen eat by himself, so she speared a piece of cucumber with her own fork.
Chocolate in a world with few of the processing methods that this world had developed in the mid-to-late 19th century did not lend itself to cake, and as such Cullen had never laid eyes on such a thing. Chocolate of any sort was a rarity, an expensive luxury that Cullen had seldom indulged in. He did like sweets, though, when they presented themselves, and so at Penelope’s insistence he skipped over dinner straight to dessert, and took a bite of cake.
And then he froze in place, eyes widening.
He chewed slowly, because surely there had never been a food like this ever in any world. It was sweet, but not in a cloying way, countered with only a slight touch of the bitterness Cullen typically associated with chocolate. The frosting was thick and creamy, the cake impossibly light and moist...he didn’t think a cake such a this was even possible. It was every bit as wondrous as the instant communication in this world. This was cake of gods and heroes.
“Maker’s breath,” he murmured, and looked over at Penelope in astonishment. “This is actually real! Have you ever had its like before?”
She watched his, her smile broadening even more. She was certain that his face mirrored hers when she’d had her first taste, and she’d lingered over her piece, thinking only of savoring every bit before noticing other people around her. She shook her head, answering, “I haven’t, no. I never knew it was possible, Cullen.”
She ate her bite of cucumber, very much in charity with the entire world. “I was afraid you wouldn’t like it, after I’d said so much about it.”
“How could anyone not like this?” Cullen laughed. “I am not even a great one for sweets, and even so I find this remarkable!”
Indeed, he had managed to devour another bite as Penelope spoke, and promptly took another after answering her. He really needed to slow down, be mindful, take the time to properly and thoroughly enjoy the marvelous concoction before him, but dear Maker it was amazing. It took a great effort of Cullen’s considerable self-control to tamp down the urge to simply gobble it all down in mere seconds.
“If there is anyone who doesn’t like this, I shall happily take care of their cake for them,” he said. “Because I am a noble and self-sacrificing man.”
Penelope laughed, and shook her head. “While the thought is appreciated, I’m afraid that you would have to share that cake -- with me. It would be unfair of me to allow you to take on such a dreadful task alone.”
“I could hardly deny you the opportunity, seeing as you were so kind as to draw my attention to the existence of this chocolate cake in the first place,” Cullen allowed with a smile. “Truly, thank you. This is...positively brilliant, really. Chocolate is a luxury in Thedas, one I have seldom enjoyed, and even when I have, it did not even remotely compare to this.”
“Then it is settled,” Penelope declared. “We are the keepers of the cake that no one else wants.”
She shook her head, dismissing Cullen’s thanks with her hand and the upturned corners of her mouth. “Thanks are not needed. I didn’t see you here and wondered if you had eaten. It was a luxury at home, too, but one that I was fortunate enough to have several times a week. It always felt so decadent to have it at breakfast but this -- I don’t know if I would even want what I had at home anymore.”
Cullen had consumed chocolate maybe three times in his entire life, but he had never particularly missed it. If the chocolate in Thedas had been anything like this, though, he might have. He had slowed down on it now, taking time to enjoy every sliver of it. Such an opportunity was not likely to come again, and therefore it could not be wasted.
“Well, whether thanks are necessary or not, I appreciate you thinking of me,” Cullen said, and it was only as he said the words that it occurred to him to be surprised (and promptly thereafter pleased) that she had noticed he was late to dinner. He thought of Penelope rather more than he thought he should, and had not considered that she might think of him as well.
Their tablemates had long since left, leaving them to finish their dinners. Penelope realized it then, and found herself blushing faintly. “You’re my friend. It’s only… only natural that I would. You may well have eaten before I arrived. I wanted to be sure.”
She smiled, suddenly shy and wishing she were braver. As brave as Cullen, in fact, who had faced demons and dragons and had lived to tell the tales.
Cullen noticed the light flush of Penelope’s cheeks. Alone, it was insignificant. Paired with her shy smile and that little bit of a stammer, though...might it be possible that Penelope actually had some interest in him? Something perhaps a bit beyond friendship?
Cullen hadn’t really considered romance as a possibility for himself in years. He hadn’t wanted to let anyone in that close, or to complicate his life. He hadn’t wanted to complicate anyone else’s life, either, and it was very possible that he still shouldn’t do any of that. He wanted to, though, and that was new. He wanted to taste that pretty smile of hers, to pull her into his lap and see if she felt as warm and soft as she looked. He wanted a lot of things that would probably just be asking for trouble, and despite being well aware of that trouble, he found himself smiling faintly in return.
“It’s been a long time since anyone bothered about whether I remembered to eat dinner,” Cullen admitted. “Perhaps I may steal a seat at your table again in the future, so you needn’t worry over me.”
Cullen had a bit of icing clinging to the corner of his mouth. She lifted her napkin, leaned in and swiped gently and briefly at it, and nodded. “I would like that. You sitting with me. I wouldn’t want to worry.”
She pulled back, leaving the faint lemony-mint scent of the soap that Alison had made for her behind.
He liked the smell of her, Cullen decided. He liked her warmth and the gentle touch of her hand even better. The gesture had been perfectly innocent, but it had him thinking decidedly non-innocent thoughts now. Not devouring Penelope Featherington was taking about as much self-control as not devouring chocolate cake.
“Save me a seat at dinner tomorrow, then,” he said with a smile. “Or I shall save one for you, should I arrive first.”
“It’s a date,” Penelope said, unconsciously echoing a phrase she had heard her first week in Mount Weather. Had she an inkling of Cullen’s train of thought, she might not have answered at all and instead indulged herself by pressing a kiss to his mouth. As it was she refocused on her dinner, and swung their conversation around to Remus, who had been her reading companion in the evenings since his return from his adventures in the hurricane. “I’m reading a book with Remus this week, by Mark Twain. It’s called A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court.”
Cullen had worried a bit about Remus, since their conversation two nights previous. He knew what it was like to carry a mountain of guilt, to feel incapable of looking at one’s self in the mirror. He was glad to see that Remus had more of a support system than he had when he was at his very lowest. A few good friends could make all the difference between putting a life and a soul back together, or lashing out at everything around you, or landing at the bottom of a bottle in the back of a seedy pub. Penelope, Cullen thought, was probably a good friend to have when you were very particularly low.
“What is it about?” he asked, because most of those words sounded like a mishmash of sounds and little else.
Penelope smiled wryly. “It’s about a man who travels in time to King Arthur’s court, and becomes court magician to him.” For many people, that would be enough. And for a moment, Penelope forgot that Cullen wouldn’t know. “Oh, you don’t know about King Arthur. He’s… a legendary king of England, my own country. He lived a very, very long time ago and had his home and castle and court at a place called Camelot. I don’t know if anyone truly believes he ever existed, but the stories told about his Knights of the Round Table are well-known, as are the ones about his wife, Guinevere and her lover, Sir Lancelot.”
She smiled, full of confidence that he would like the tales surrounding King Arthur. “With luck, there is a collection of the stories in the library. I think you’d enjoy them. They’re stories of chivalry and brave deeds great, tragic romances.”
“I actually have a book about King Arthur in line to read,” Cullen replied in pleasant surprise. “The Once and Future King, it’s called. Another of Remus’s recommendations. I haven’t gotten to it yet, as I was so entranced with Mr. Tolkien’s work. Perhaps I’ll give The Silmarillion a miss for now and try out another world for a bit.”
It would give him another excuse to talk to Penelope, and he liked those. It would also likely be a fun one to discuss with Remus, and he liked talking books with Remus, too. Remus just didn’t make his heart beat a little too fast the way Penelope did.
“Really?” Penelope’s smile widened again. “I… I think I have heard of that one. When you are finished with it, may I have it? Remus does have wonderful taste in literature. I wouldn’t have known where to start, really.”
“Rather than waiting...perhaps you might like to read it with me?” Cullen suggested. “Only Annabeth and I remain in the suite we share, so there is no shortage of quiet and space there.”
He liked the idea of sharing some quiet time reading with Penelope. It was more intimate and private than any of their interactions thus far, but after two months of casual talking, Cullen didn’t find the suggestion improper. The rules in the society from which he came were considerably more relaxed than in Penelope’s home world, so it didn’t occur to him that she might see spending time alone together as anything inappropriate.
Penelope had changed a great deal in the months that she had been in Mount Weather; more than she even realized. At home it would not have occurred to her to perform so intimate an action as wiping a bit of chocolate from anyone’s mouth, let alone a male friend. So Cullen’s suggestion only brought a smile to her face. She’d spent several hours alone with Remus, after all -- and had come to no ill. Time spent with Cullen would be even more enjoyable. “I would like that. Tristan is a very fine young man, but he is a child, and children must make noise. I think that Annie and Finnick would also appreciate family time, without a stranger in their midst, too.”
Her cheeks still had a faint pink tinge, and her mouth curved up at the corners as if she were holding back a wide, satisfied grin. “When would you like to start?”
It would be convenient, since he was already planning to meet her at dinner anyhow. That would segue nicely into going to his quarters to read. Of course, that opened the possibility that someone might see them going to his quarters together...but surely no one would get any ideas of the two of them, of all people, having a courtship proceed at too fast a rate. They were easily the least likely candidates for such a thing in all of Mount Weather.
Penelope breathed out slowly, and nodded. Yes, she definitely thought that tomorrow evening would be the perfect time to begin reading a book with Cullen. Only with Cullen. Already her insides felt wiggly with the good kind of nervous that comes with spending time with a person who is becoming a favorite. “Yes. Tomorrow evening would be… perfect.”
She glanced at the clock, and sighed. “It’s time for me to meet Remus, but I’ll… see you tomorrow.”
“Give Remus my regards,” Cullen said with a polite nod. He still had his actual dinner to finish, having gotten distracted by cake and conversation--not that he minded in the least. Just the thought of it made him smile again, in fact. “Have a pleasant evening, Penelope--and I shall see you tomorrow.”