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Post by Crowley on Nov 22, 2011 0:36:54 GMT -5
"Some strawberries. You sure you want to do the cooking? You're a guest and all."
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Nov 22, 2011 0:39:04 GMT -5
He looked bemused, then hesitant and sad, then just thoughtful.
He leaned in and kissed the end of his nose.
"...I used to cook for Adrian, but he didn't really... appreciate it," he worded carefully. "He doesn't like food much. But I'd like to cook for you, if you don't mind."
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Post by Crowley on Nov 22, 2011 0:41:45 GMT -5
"I don't mind if you don't. And I certainly don't mind food. I'm actually a rather big fan of it."
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Nov 22, 2011 0:57:57 GMT -5
He started giggling. "Well, Adrian says I deserve someone better, so I guess you fit the bill."
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Post by Crowley on Nov 22, 2011 1:00:38 GMT -5
He laughed uncomfortably. "Well. He can't have been very good at all if I qualify as 'someone better.'"
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Nov 22, 2011 1:01:40 GMT -5
"Hey, you're brilliant too," he said, affectionately pushing Crowley's hair back behind his ear.
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Post by Crowley on Nov 22, 2011 1:11:37 GMT -5
Oh no. Ohhh no. He should have seen this coming. The last thing either of them needed was for Adrien to put him up on a pedestal like that. Crowley knew he could treat Adrien better than Marchetti or Adrian ever had, but it didn't change the fact that he was an infernal, snake-eyed, quite literally God-damned demon. He couldn't just tell Adrien that, and it sure as hell wasn't fair to pretend he was something better.
He kissed him. "Come on, let's get a little bit of clothing on. I'll keep you company while you make breakfast."
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Nov 22, 2011 1:21:16 GMT -5
Adrien pulled on the panties (they weren't from the Veidt line, thankfully) and the sweater and socks he'd been wearing the day before. Then he sat on the edge of the bed to wait for Crowley to be done.
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Post by Crowley on Nov 22, 2011 1:25:15 GMT -5
Crowley threw on the t-shirt and underwear that had been discarded last night and beckoned Adrien out of the bedroom.
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Nov 22, 2011 1:27:59 GMT -5
"Where do you keep everything?" he asked, opening a cupboard in search of a mixing bowl and a waffle iron.
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Post by Crowley on Nov 22, 2011 1:31:07 GMT -5
"Uhhh, there," he said, pointing to a random cabinet that he made sure had everything he thought one might need to make waffles.
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Nov 22, 2011 1:40:33 GMT -5
"Oh."
Crowley's apartment was clearly too big for one bachelor; that cupboard had been totally empty. He pulled a chair over to stand on it to reach everything, then, as he pulled down bowls and an iron (and, hilariously, a bunch of utensils that would be important; there was NO organization to this kitchen, was there? Whatta man Crowley was), looked back at him amusedly. He lifted his eyebrows.
After Marchetti, whose place was always full of other men, it was interesting to know two men whose houses looked like they planned to be much more full than they actually were.
"Nice place you got here, Crowley."
He put the chair away and moved back to the fridge.
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Post by Crowley on Nov 22, 2011 1:45:45 GMT -5
Crowley sat down at the table, which wasn't too far from the open kitchen.
"Glad you like it. Sorry about my kitchen, by the way. I'm not much of a chef, myself."
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Post by Adrien Baillon on Nov 22, 2011 1:50:57 GMT -5
"It's okay," he said lightly, putting ingredients together in a bowl.
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Post by Crowley on Nov 22, 2011 1:56:27 GMT -5
He smiled, watching Adrien. Last person who'd cooked for him in his own kitchen was a girl in the 1970's who made him pancakes shaped like Mickey Mouse. They came out a bit charred.
Adrien seemed to know what he was doing, though. It was a little mesmerizing to watch.
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