dorian pavus (necromantical) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2017-09-26 11:30:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, bodhi rook, dorian pavus |
Who: Dorian and Bodhi
What: A would-be date at a gastropub turns into cooking at home because the weather's crap
When: Yesterday, during Temple of Weather Manipulation time
Where: Bodhi's apartment
Rating/Warnings: Mostly low (though his roommates are pretty kinky, who knew?)
Status: Complete
No one really knew what the illusive gastropub even was, but Dorian - via his research - discovered it was sort of a place for high-class pub grub? Fancy things like prawns wrapped in bacon (the applewood kind, applewood was typical for all gastropubs) , leg of lamb, and barrel-aged whiskey or a perfectly poured pint. Either way, he found a good spot for date night. It would be nice because there was a back patio where a lush garden was maintained, growing fresh tomatoes, basil, and other ingredients that the chef no doubt used for items on the menu. Date night. Maker’s testicles, how often did he even date in the first place? To answer that question, not very often at all. But he was usually just so busy with work and practically living in the courtroom and buried under piles of paperwork. His days of drugs, an excess of alcohol, and nameless hookups were long behind him - however, this, tonight, right now wasn’t exactly what he’d call a nameless hookup either. It was an actual date that would maybe lead to more dates? Was that how it worked? Or Orange County could ruin things, but no. He’d try his hardest to ignore the weirdness that had been cropping up lately and go through with these reservations at the gastropub because he was stubborn enough to do so. Arriving at Bodhi’s apartment building, dressed smartly in tailored slacks, a grey long-sleeved crew shirt that matched the same stormy shade of his eyes (deliberate move!), and a blazer he went up to the door and knocked. Ta da, the fabulousness had arrived. Bodhi, for his part, had tried to google ‘gastropub’ and come up with more confusion than answer (wasn’t the nature of a pub that you weren’t there to enjoy the food?) but it didn’t much matter. He wasn’t overly concerned with food, he usually only really ate one full meal a day and just ate protein bars the rest of the time - quick and easy and something he could shove in his mouth on the go - so this would be a pretty nice change of pace, actually. He dithered over what to wear; was a gastropub fancy? Was it casual? Dorian was kind of a fancy guy, would Bodhi look out of place next to him either way? He didn’t have a dearth of ‘fancy’ clothes in his wardrobe. He ended up borrowing a dark blue buttondown from Sam, his flatmate. Lyla, Sam’s wife, whistled appreciatively at him and hooted and hollered and made a lot of exaggerated movements with her eyebrows. “Dressing up, little bird?” she asked. “Who’s the lucky lady?” Bodhi just shrugged and fiddled with his cuffs. He still couldn’t tell if Dorian was serious about this or if he was just putting him on, some weird kind of joke (unfortunately the kind that Bodhi was perhaps too familiar with); there really wasn’t much need to worry so much about this. But he still felt the need to. He worried about everything, it’d be weird if he didn’t worry about this, right? Sam and Lyla cleared out to let him have some “private time” if he should need it (Lyla winked at him, several times, before he all but shoved them out the door; he could hear them laughing at him all down the hall and his cheeks heated). He was still flushing when there was a knock at the door, and he had to fan his cheeks before he answered it, a sudden flash of nerves coming over him. “Um. Hi,” he said. “I suddenly feel a bit underdressed…” Utterly adorable was the phrase Dorian used to describe Bodhi, and he certainly wasn’t lying. The man was very sweet, and not exactly the kind that Dorian typically went for - but then again, a lot of his past excursions hadn’t been memorable and were with those as eager as he was to forget about the whole thing the next day. “Nonsense, you look dashing,” he insisted, stepping into the apartment. “Perfect for a gastropub. I made reservations at this place in Santa Ana, you’ll love - “ Alright, what in the ever-loving fuck? He thought he caught sight of a snow flurry outside, which was odd - and must mean he was hallucinating. Because he’d been living in California all of his life and it didn’t typically snow in San Francisco - the OC was another story, weirdly enough, but it was currently only September. He took a few strides toward the living room window. “Maker’s cock,” he sputtered, genuinely surprised at how the whole yard and surrounding area now resembled a winter wonderland, the landmarks erased by the densely swirling white vortex - and it was still snowing. Still a blizzard. Bodhi had gone to retrieve his shoes when he heard Dorian curse and came running back in to see what was wrong. Nothing, apparently. Except, following Dorian’s line of sight out the window - oh…not nothing. Quite a lot of something, actually. It was more snow than Bodhi had ever seen in his life, piling up against the windows and the glass door of the balcony. He opened one of the windows to see if it was real...maybe some weird joint hallucination? That had been a common explanation for things back before his eyes had been opened to how bizarre things were in Orange County. But nope, it was freezing, and his hand stung when he grabbed a handful of snow. He hissed and jerked his hand back inside, slamming the window, and dropped the snow in the sink with a distasteful look. He was used to chilly, dreary weather, having lived in London his entire life, but that didn’t mean he LIKED it. Well. No matter. He peered out the window again and, though it looked like a bad time to be outside, Dorian seemed rather eager. Bodhi wasn’t going to ruin that. “I’ve a coat you can borrow, if you like,” he said, turning back to Dorian. A coat? A coat? Was this man completely mad? Dorian didn’t do snow - in fact, he was pretty sure that he avoided that nonsense during the odd OC winters where it decided to completely disregard normalcy. If that wasn’t evidence of climate change, then he wasn’t sure what would be more convincing (but it was more likely multiverse fuckery he didn’t understand). “We’re staying in,” he decided, unbuttoning his blazer and slipping it off to hang over the back of the sofa. And thus he pushed up the sleeves of his shirt, full indication that he was making himself at home. “Me and blizzards don’t mix, darling.” Sure, he could wield winter magic - but it was annoying to have to do so. Tossing fire was preferable, at least then he wouldn’t freeze. And now wasn’t this quaint. A dinner right here at home! Home-cooked, even. “Let me at your kitchen, I’ll whip us something delicious.” Bodhi breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t particularly wanted to go out in that nonsense but Dorian just didn’t strike him as a man you argued with. He must have been a hell of a lawyer. If he’d said that they were going out, Bodhi would have gone out. Buuuuuuuuuut since they weren’t he put his shoes back and stripped out of the button down to go hang it back in Sam’s closet. No need for it if they were just staying in, after all. “I think they just went grocery shopping,” he called over his shoulder. “Use whatever you want. Except the whipped cream, that’s, uh. ‘Private’ whipped cream.” Bodhi blushed even saying it. After stopping by his room to get something to put on over his undershirt (the apartment was suddenly freezing, no real surprise given the snow), Bodhi returned to the kitchen and Dorian. “What do you need me to do?” “Private whipped cream?” Dorian let out a chuff of air that was probably a laugh. “My, that sounds...sticky. And sugary. Not certain I would be into that but to each their own.” Perhaps if he was working with a completely smooth surface, but who was completely void of body hair? Then again, perhaps jumping in the shower after the fun of licking each other could be entertaining? No? Likely not. However, he distinctly avoided the whipped cream because he wouldn’t need it anyway. Not for an egg curry, which he planned to make - after checking Bodhi’s spice collection, he decided it was decent enough to ‘wow’ him with something of his homeland and cliche, but you couldn’t go wrong with Indian food. Besides, this would make for a quick and delicious dish, yet something overly elaborate. And vegetarian - he didn’t shy away from meat, but he also didn’t eat it constantly either. “I’m going to start on the paste, you can boil some eggs for me?” he suggested. “Four to five will do. Then I wouldn’t complain if you wanted to be my taste-tester.” ‘Not certain I’d be into that’ pretty much defined his flatmate’s entire relationship and was the reason that Bodhi slept with noise-cancelling headphones. There were just some things a man didn’t need to hear, but they let him stay without complaint so he wasn’t going to ask them to, uh, tone it down. Just try to avoid it as much as he could and get on with his life. But he flushed anyway and avoided looking at the offending cannister as he retrieved the eggs. “Like I said, I’ve never turned down food,” he said as he went to work on the eggs. “What are you making?” He watched as Dorian started to retrieve ingredients and spices. His mother hadn’t made many dishes from her homeland, mostly because she worked so many hours that she didn’t have the energy to, but she’d cooked enough that he recognized the collection of spices Dorian was amassing. Pakistan and India, tensions aside, weren’t so far apart after all. Tomatoes, onions, sauteeing some bay leaf and other spices - oh yes, this was going to be delicious indeed. Dorian was already salivating. “Egg curry,” he responded as he worked, efficient and the type to ‘clean as you go’ which was probably the polite thing to do in someone else’s kitchen anyway. But it was also that he couldn’t stand a huge mess. “It’s delicious with rice. Not that I cook much at home, but - “ He shrugged. “I know plenty of recipes.” He mostly just stuck to spending his spare time on winemaking and homebrewing. For meals, they were fast and not anything he was willing to slave over after a work day - plus, he worked odd hours. Sometimes when he had a court deadline he was in the office very, very late. “So how did you meet these roommates of yours?” he asked, while stirring. “The ones who like to either make nipple sundaes with that whipped cream or huff the fumes.” It did smell fantastic, and Bodhi was having to resist the urge to drool all over himself. This was a date (allegedly, Bodhi was still waiting for a ‘gotcha’), so that probably wasn’t very attractive. “Well, I’m definitely not going to say no to that, then.” “Don’t say the word ‘nipple’ to me, I’m not sure we’re there in our relationship yet.” Bodhi shook his head and turned away from Dorian, hunching his shoulders. “They, uh. Wanted me to, be...part of their, uh, family? In a manner of speaking.” And hadn’t that been an awkward meeting...it had taken him nearly half an hour to work out that when they said they were ‘looking for a third’ they hadn’t meant a third roommate. But they took pity on him and agreed to actually take him in as a housemate. Bodhi wasn’t entirely unsure that this wasn’t some kind of long game to try and get him into bed, but so far they hadn’t made any moves at him beyond some (possibly put on?) flirting and a lot of eyebrow waggling. He blushed just thinking about it. “Nipples, balls, a rock-hard dick, maybe pussy too,” Dorian replied with as much dignity and class as he would when he gave an impassioned courtroom speech. Honestly, his accent - it was a bit like Bodhi’s own, tea and crumpets mixed with curry - London was overflowing with curry, wasn’t it. He simply had a mish-mosh of a voice, unique just like he was. “Alright, perhaps not the pussy part. We can leave that out.” Though he had great respect for female genitalia, don’t get him wrong! It certainly took a beating (a licking?) and kept on ticking. Really, he just liked seeing Bodhi blush. And he liked being a shit - it was in his nature. But anyway, he actually paused while in the process of meticulously peeling eggshells. Did this shy and awkward man just say he lived with two other people because they wanted him to be the third party in their sex games? Oh, Maker bless it. “You adorable, adorable man,” Dorian chuckled, wiping his hands off. “Your kinky side is buried deep, I can tell. Come here, I need you to taste test something.” Bodhi covered his face to hide his blush and groaned. “You’re the worst, are you sure you’re an adult? I’m not convinced. Should I be letting you use the stove since you’re apparently five?” He groaned again and swatted at Dorian, even as he went to taste the (absolutely delightful smelling) food. “The worst,” he repeated. But at least he didn’t have to spell it out to Dorian, or answer any particularly awkward questions. “I’m not...doing anything with them, if that’s your concern.” Why yes, he was the worst, wasn’t he? That was the sweetest compliment. “No need to flatter me so much, you could probably get me into bed if you wanted,” Dorian quipped - it was true though, it wouldn’t take a lot of effort. But the very thought might make Bodhi’s head explode right now. Or maybe he was a secret kink master. Of course, Dorian didn’t need him to taste test anything either - the curry portion was almost finished, he just had to get the eggs peeled - but it was simply him being a shit again. He held Bodhi’s chin and kissed him, just once, short and spicy (not so sweet - Dorian didn’t do much sweet, he’d let the other man handle that). “It may have been a slight concern, that you were having threesomes with your roommates - but thank you for clarifying that you weren’t,” he grinned. “We need rice now though, so can you fire up the cooker?” While they still had power. He didn’t trust the weather outside one bit. Indeed, Bodhi covered his face with his hands again to hide the blush and let out an almost anguished moan. “What am I going to do with you?” he asked, muffled behind his hands. Trying to maintain some of his dignity, he straightened up and stuffed his hands into his pockets...just in time for Dorian to kiss him and completely break him again. For a long moment he could only blink, trying to process what had just happened. He’d been kissed before, he wasn’t some blushing pure virgin (just the blushing part), but it had been a while and before it had always been something done in the dark, hurried and with the kind of desperation only teenagers could muster. His brain only came back online when Dorian requested his help, and he got the rice cooker down almost mechanically and added in the water and rice. It was only after he switched the machine on that he turned around and yelled, “You just kissed me!” Uh. Well, needless to say, Dorian had never experienced a reaction like that in his day, after kissing someone. The yelling actually startled him a bit, and he blinked smoky grey eyes owlishly. Because it sounded like Bodhi was offended. Was he going to call the police? Did he not want rice with curry, was that it? Should Dorian just leave? So many questions. This was why he didn’t bother with dating half the time. It was a lot easier when both parties were just in it to get each other off and nothing more. “That I did,” he held up his hands in surrender, or to show that the only ‘weapon’ he was carrying was a spoon. And would try not to accidentally summon fire or spirits from the Fade - sometimes he did that. I see dead people. He would have made for a better subject for a movie as opposed to the child from The Sixth Sense. “...should I not have?” “I…” The fire had left Bodhi now, as it usually did. His brain was coming back online and the embarrassment taking over. “I didn’t mind it, I’m sorry. I’m just not used to this and you...surprised me? A little warning, next time, maybe?” An awkward, silent beat, and Bodhi twitched and then moved into nervous action. “I’ll, uh, make a salad, shall I?” Dorian lifted an eyebrow. All the way up. “How about you warn me next time?” he said. “I’ll let you make the moves.” For a time, certainly - but it seemed prudent to let the twitchier one have more say so as to avoid giving the poor man a fright. He also wasn’t certain what type of warning to give on his end anyway - maybe a full page ad in the newspaper? Did anyone even still read the newspaper? Distinctly avoiding any tossing the salad quips (you’re welcome, Bodhi), Dorian moved back into the motions of preparing their ‘shut in due to inclement weather’ dinner. “Salad, please, go forth with the rabbit food,” he motioned. “I’ll do the rice, then.” Because you really couldn’t have curry without rice. It would only take a few moments to make. Bodhi flushed even deeper - he was eventually going to just permanently be red, it seemed. “I’m sorry,” he said with a huff, then, with bravery brought on by impulse more than anything else, turned and grabbed Dorian and kissed him again. Properly. Perhaps with a little tongue - was that too forward for the first date? Probably, but he wanted to even the playing field a little. Put them on more even ground, in terms of being thrown off-kilter. After a long moment he pulled back and went to retrieve the salad fixings from the fridge. Andraste’s flaming arse, what in the actual fuck? Dorian was startled, again, and he dropped the bag of rice he had in his hands in favor of holding Bodhi’s face and returning that kiss - oh, yes, there was tongue, he didn’t care if it was inappropriate. Being appropriate wasn’t something that a man like Dorian ever really cared about, when it came to these things. Luckily, the bag of rice hadn’t bloody fucking spilled everywhere, because if it had, they’d be cleaning that mess. No, luck was on their side for once. For now. Though the weather had changed outside - instead of a snowstorm it was now more like sleet, icy rain that likely felt like pellets of doom and he was still glad they had stayed in. “You don’t need to apologize for anything,” he chuckled throatily, after adding water and selecting the correct option on the rice cooker. They would be ready to go shortly here. “I like you just fine, utterly odd as you are.” Bodhi turned away to hide his smile; it was a compliment, perhaps backhanded but he’d take it, and he wasn’t ever quite sure how to actually take compliments. Instead he glanced out the window at the weather, humming. It was the English default to talk about the weather, after all. “I suppose it could be worse,” he said, turning back to the fridge to get the salad fixings. “There’s no killer clowns.” “Bite your tongue,” Dorian huffed - or he’d bite it himself, rather, but that was implied. “It could be very well be killer clowns tomorrow.” Apparently no one had any idea what the towers would bring, but he was rather ready for the roller coaster to be over with regardless. Dishing them up healthy portions of curry over rice (especially Bodhi - he was looking a little thin here), he took a moment to inhale the spicy fragrance and be utterly satisfied with his handiwork. “Well! Let’s uncork a bottle of wine and eat this before the power goes out, shall we?” “You can bite it for me if they show up,” Bodhi quipped, already heading to the pantry for the wine. He found a corkscrew and grabbed two glasses before joining Dorian at the table. “It looks quite good,” he said, nodding to the food (and don’t think he didn’t notice the extra portion for him, Dorian, what was with everyone and feeding him?). He lightly kicked at Dorian’s feet. “Hey now, you’re going to curse us now. I don’t think I’ve got enough blankets for us if the heat goes off.” They’d make do if they had to, of course. But that was for later. For now there was hot food and some wine, and good company. The rest of the night would play out however it played out. Bodhi tried to put his worries aside and just enjoy the present, for once. He poured them each a glass of wine and raised his for a toast. “Cheers. To no clowns.” Such an appropriate toast! Dorian clinked his glass against Bodhi’s. “I’m sure we could make do with body heat and blankets,” he smirked, fully hoping the teasing caused more blushing. One day the novelty of his innuendos may wear off (or hopefully not!) but in the meantime, he could enjoy the fruits of his snarky labor. |