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[Lightning Returns] Food for Thought (4510words)
Title: Food for Thought
Fandom: Lightning Returns
Character/Pairing(s): pre-Noel/Hope STILL, and Alyssa
Rating: G
Warning: maybe second-hand embarrassment
Summary: Impressions-verse; Noel is a much better cook than Hope anticipated.
There was a yellow post-it note left for him that morning on the kitchen table.
Don't forget to eat this time. Was written on it in messy block words with a simple happy face at the end, obviously scrawled in a hurry. Below the note was a brown paper bag, and further examination revealed a plastic-wrapped sandwich with a stick on it that said, 'For Lunch!' and a childish juice-box.
Besides the bag with post-it note was a plate with a bagel on it, grilled and cut in half to sandwich thick leaves of lettuce and sliced tomatoes, and smeared on one side with cream cheese. It was pushed to the side of the plate by a small plastic cup filled to the top with various cut fruits and berries with a toothpick sticking out on top for convenience. There was a small folded piece of paper on the plate in the front, with the same writing saying, 'For Breakfast - Eat me!'
Other than that, the kitchen was spotlessly clean, even more so than how Hope usually left it.
He stood there for a moment, still in pajamas and bare feet, confused by just where the food came from as the scent of coffee gradually cleared through the layers of sleep still clinging to his brain.
It was a Thursday. Thursdays meant that Noel had early morning classes, and was the one day of the week where the younger man managed to climb out of bed even before Hope, who was ready to leave the apartment by seven each morning. Thanks to Noel's football practice, the both of them managed to run into each other in the mornings, but they were both usually far too busy to do much more than exchange greetings.
While Noel stopped back periodically through the day between his classes, Hope was at work until evenings, when Noel already left for his job in the city. Despite being only two weeks into the semester for Noel, they seemed to rarely catch more than a few minutes together except on the weekend, when Noel had already been roped into several study groups and several fraternities that kept inviting him over.
They managed to catch each other for half an hour the night previous, since Hope was staying up late to respond to several emails he hadn’t gotten to the week previous, and Noel had come home and made them both tea, talking about the challenges of settling down here while Hope half paid attention and let the other ramble on.
What prompted the breakfast and lunch, though…?
Oh, right. Hope might have made an off-hand comment when asked about his working late, something about rather finishing everything the night prior than scrambling to do everything during his lunch hour before going back to work.
It was a sweet thought, a gesture amongst many which Hope was slowly acclimating to while living with Noel.
But as sweet as that gesture was, the younger man should spend his rare free time on himself instead.
Ignoring the warmth of his cheeks and the vague satisfaction in his chest, Hope made a mental note to tell Noel that the next time they saw each other.
.
.
.
“Here,” Noel told him the next morning as they were both getting ready for the day, Hope taking just a moment in the kitchen to stop and enjoy his coffee. “Try this.”
The younger man handed him a cup half filled with a thick light green liquid with a consistency Hope would have described as akin to a smoothie, smelling just a little sweet. Hope hesitated, and then reluctantly set aside his mug of coffee to take it.
“Don’t smell, just drink.” Noel told him, and Hope did just that, downing the half cup quickly and then pulling back from the glass to make a face. That wasn’t a smoothie at all — while cool, there was a grainy, sandy texture that stayed on his tongue along with a lingering sweetness (vanilla chai?) he wasn’t quite fond of.
“What — what is that?” Hope asked, scraping his tongue along the back of his teeth. While the taste wasn’t the worst thing in the world, it wasn’t exactly something he would have voluntarily consumed on his own.
“Six servings of vegetables, a daily recommendation of protein, and so many different vitamins and minerals and other things that I don’t even remember any of it.” Noel told him cheerfully, accepting the glass back. He made a thoughtful noise, though, as he studied Hope’s expression. “Although maybe I should have gotten this to you before the coffee…”
At the reminder, Hope raised his coffee mug again and took a sip to rid the lingering sweetness in his mouth.
“Good? Bad? Should I never give you any food ever again?”
“It’s…” Hope had to think for a moment on his own reaction. “Not terrible. A little warning may have been nice.”
Noel brightened. “Duly noted.”
With that said, the teenager took the empty glass to wash in the sink before placing it on the dish rack to dry and pulled his bookbag over his head, letting it settle over the dark hoodie he had half zipped with sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Hope glanced at the watch on his wrist and got up as well, deciding that he already overused the free time he had in the morning.
“Don’t forget your lunch!” Noel called out, just as cheerful, before he was out the door to get his bike.
The words sparked the reminder to speak with Noel about his time allotment, “Noel, wait—”
Except the other man was already gone, and Hope was left floundering as he finally noticed the brown paper bag left on the counter with his name written on it in large block letters.
Not again!
.
.
.
Where did you learn to make pad thai?
“Director.” Alyssa’s voice startled Hope out of his thoughts, and he set his phone down a little too hard as he jerked straight in his chair. It didn’t help that she thumped her hands down on his desk to grab his attention as well, not that she really needed to. “We need to talk, and I’d like for you to answer me truthfully: did you get a girlfriend recently?”
“What?” Hope squeaked, and then flushed deeply at her accusing glare, feeling himself sink down into his seat. “No— no, why would you think— wait, why is that even relevant?”
“Doggy-bagged lunches!” She hissed at him, flailing her arms up in the air as if to emphasize her point. “Secret texts during work! Soon you’ll be skipping meetings for a romantic rendezvous out under the stars!”
“We don’t have meetings that late at night.” Hope corrected her a little nervously, and then added, “Not unless I’m missing something. Which I think I am right now.”
“You’re being pulled into the nefarious plans of some exotic femme fatale!” Alyssa warned him quite seriously, and then amended herself, “Or you’ve been learning how to cook, in which case I’d like to respectfully sign up as your guinea pig on that: those lunches look delicious. Make me some, too?”
There was a buzz from his phone, and Hope glanced down for a brief moment to take in Noel’s response: Yeul’s got a taste for Thai food. Did I find something you like? :)
He looked up again to see Alyssa’s suspicious blue eyes staring intently at him, and then purposely turning her gaze to his phone and then back to his face. Hope could feel his ears heat up.
“You’ve got—!” She shrieked, and then covered her mouth with both hands as Hope cringed at the volume. She glanced at the door to his office suspiciously, and then uncovered her mouth, leaning over his desk to mock whisper, “I was right! You’ve got a secret girlfriend you haven’t told me about!”
“I do not!” Hope hissed back at her, feeling like any more of this and he might just spontaneously combust. He was fairly certain even the back of his neck was red now with how embarrassed he was just watching her kick her feet in excitement, leaning most of her weight on his desk. Alyssa was grinning at him slyly, and Hope had to curse his choice in friends.
He couldn’t help his surprise at her grin, though, since the recent weeks had her strangely aloof whenever he was around.
(What Hope didn’t understand, despite Alyssa joining his department mere months after he did, being the same age as him and then strong-arming her way into the position of his assistant and always managing to be where he was, was that there had been a time where she fancied herself dating him. When Hope agreed to review projects with her after hours, she would bring wine and champagne flutes. When he went for lunch, she would follow him and then sit at the same table as him, speaking about television shows he never watched while he tried not to look too confused. They would ‘accidentally’ run into each other frequently during weekends, not just because Alyssa knew and handled his schedule or anything…
What neither of them knew, however, was that during those months the rest of the department had a betting pool on which one of them would realize what was going on first: whether Hope would find out he was actually unwittingly dating Alyssa, or whether Alyssa would realize Hope hadn’t a clue what she was doing.
So far, no one won that pool yet seeing as Alyssa decided to ‘break it off’ just several weeks ago, pulling a very confused Hope aside to gently explain to him about how they just weren’t working out, except in not-so-direct words, and then took his later expressions of befuddlement to mean he was still pining after her. Alyssa hadn’t the heart to give him false hope, and had distanced herself rather successfully the past several weeks, if she did say so herself.
What Hope had gotten from that disastrous break-up conversation had been that Alyssa was currently having a bit of guy trouble, that she didn’t think he looked at her the same way he used to, and that if she wasn’t as attentive, then it wasn’t because of him, it was because of her.
She reiterated that last part to him several times. He couldn’t help but stare at her more often after that, wondering just what she meant by ‘the way he used to look at her’.)
“Maybe I should have learned how to cook.” She said mysteriously, shooting one of her strange looks at him. Hope didn’t comment, feeling like anything he might say would have a high chance of upsetting her. “You never texted me in the middle of work.”
“Of course I have.” He told her. He could recall several instances when he needed a quick answer and had asked her for help through the phone. “I just usually don’t because you’re within audio range.” Usually close enough that he didn’t need to raise his voice the slightest bit.
Alyssa ignored that statement. “So what’s her name?”
“Who?”
“The mysterious girlfriend, of course!” She informed him, now more on his desk than on the floor, leaning precariously into his personal space. “The one you’re texting! The one making you lunches, or has you learning to cook so you can make lunches and impress her!”
Hope leaned back into his chair to avoid her fervent enthusiasm. “I told you: there’s no girl! I have a new roommate, and, uh, I guess he likes cooking…”
“A new roommate?” Her voice was shrill. “I didn’t know you were renting out your guestroom! Who is he? You need to be careful, Director Hope, with society the way it is lately, who’s to tell if you’ve rented out your place to a serial killer?”
“He’s not a serial killer.” Hope told her. “He’s a student at the Academy. I used to babysit him.”
The blonde deflated a bit from her eager assumptions, pouting. “Well, that’s boring. At least he cooks. Is he nice? What am I talking about, of course he is if he’s actually making you lunches. Is he cute? Tell me he’s cute. Tell me he’s cute and that he walks around your place in a towel after showering.”
“You seem to have made up your own mind without any help from me.” Hope intoned dryly, frowning just the slightest. He was reluctant to admit that she was right on all accounts.
“You used to babysit him?” Alyssa asked, aghast, as if she suddenly comprehended what he told her. “Just how old is he? Are you living with jailbait?”
The last question was, sadly, particularly loud, and Hope once again flushed as he heard the conversations outside his office stutter to a halt. Alyssa didn’t seem to notice at all.
“Oh my god.” She exclaimed. “You have a cute jailbait roommate who makes you lunches. Who makes you lunches and is cute and walks around in nothing but a towel.”
“He’s not jailbait and you are making assumptions!” Hope protested, just loudly enough that anyone listening into the conversation would hear. “He’s a nice kid I know who worked hard to get into the Academy and needed a place to stay since we all know the dorms around here charge an arm and leg, and I told him he could cook in exchange for the room since it’s not like I was going to charge him for the place when I wanted to help out and he needs to save money for school and I know his grandmother, Alyssa! He’s eighteen, okay?”
She paused, shocked for a moment by Hope’s uncharacteristic outburst.
“Okay,” she finally relented, and then asked, “But is he cute?”
.
.
.
“Wait, who’s Alyssa?” Noel asked, expression blank as Hope regaled the younger man about his day as they sat at the tiny dining table in Hope’s kitchen over a dinner of pasta and garlic bread.
“My assistant — Alyssa Zaidelle. She used to set me up on these blind dates,” What Hope hadn’t known was that they weren’t dates so much as her attempting to intimidate other girls away from him, “and now she wants to come over to make sure you’re not some random serial killer.”
Her exact intention had been to check out the ‘cute roommate’ whom she assumed barely wore a smidgen of clothing, but Hope balked at the idea of telling Noel that.
Instead, he worked at stabbing one of the miniature tomatoes on his plate with his fork.
They established a habit of dinner together late Friday nights, because neither of them needed to wake up early the next morning. It was the one meal Hope actually cooked during the weekdays, seeing as he got home before Noel. That meant the meal usually consisted of his limited recipes of salad, pastas, or meatloaf.
It wasn’t that Hope didn’t know how to cook, it was mostly that he was far too tired by the time he got home that the simplest recipes were the most appealing to him.
Noel made a strangled noise, and then gestured for Hope to continue. “Blind dates?”
He didn’t understand how that was the part Noel chose to pick out, when Alyssa had implied the younger man might actually be a serial killer.
“Uh. Yes. They didn’t work out very well.” Hope cleared his throat even as he speared one of the tomatoes, fingers twitching around his fork in remembrance. “I’m afraid I’m not quite suited for events like that.”
“Oh, that’s good.” Noel breathed out, and then tensed before huffing out a laugh, the sound nervous and somewhat fake. “I don’t mean that’s a good thing, I just mean. Um. It’s good that you know… so you know what to avoid next time?”
“No more blind dates.” Hope agreed, for some reason feeling slightly cheered by Noel’s nervousness.
“So how did you get Alyssa as your assistant, anyway? You never told me.”
“Well…” Hope hesitated, and glanced up to see Noel staring curiously, one elbow on the table with his chin propped on his hand, food half finished and ignored in favor of listening to Hope. He should have said something about it being bad manners to put body parts on the table, but Hope couldn’t find himself minding. Instead, he hesitantly began the story of how Alyssa would follow him around at work, to her strange interferences, how she seemed to have some sort of sixth sense regarding where he was at all times, up to her latest behaviors.
Noel looked rather dejected in the beginning, but then for some reason started laughing as Hope described how he told Alyssa off for bringing alcoholic beverages (wine) and fire hazards (candles) into the workplace, especially when they had been alone and wouldn’t be able to deal with the repercussions should something disastrous happen.
In the end, the younger man ended up doubled over on the table from laughter by the time Hope, still confused, described the strange ‘talk’ Alyssa pulled him aside to have with him.
.
.
.
In the end, every attempt Hope made to dissuade Noel of cooking any more than just dinners for the two of them were easily foiled as Noel distracted him with various stories of his own of his classmates, his teammates, and the kids he was teaching at work as an assistant defense instructor in the city.
Somehow, Hope found himself so caught up in Noel’s stories that he forgot all about the topic once the younger man started speaking.
.
.
.
Monday morning woke Hope up with the scent of fresh coffee and warm baking.
He padded sleepily into the kitchen to investigate the delicious smells, bypassing most of his morning routine even as he yawned into a hand and tried to rub his eyes awake. The kitchen lights were bright despite it barely being sunrise, warm and cozy despite the usual morning chill.
“Good morning!”
Hope just stood there, unsure whether he was actually awake or whether it was just a very strange dream. Noel was bustling about the kitchen wearing an apron Nora had originally gifted her son (which Hope had put away and never could find again), baby blue accented with darker blue streaks painted across it to make it look more like an artist apron than one for the kitchen. The brunette had his hair tied back into a small ponytail and his bangs mostly pinned out of the way as he cut up several fruits, a sizzling on the stove drawing Hope’s attention to pancakes in need of being flipped and a pot of bubbling soup.
“Noel.” Hope shook his head, blinking several times to confirm what he was seeing. “It’s six in the morning. How long have you been up?”
“Oh, don’t worry.” Noel told him with a smile, still chopping. “I only started about ten minutes ago and it’ll all be done in another twenty minutes or so. It doesn’t actually take that long. I did most of the prep last night. You should get ready for work — don’t worry, I’m not going to burn the place down or anything.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about.” Hope said. “You should be focused on your studies. And — you’re busy with practice, too!”
“Yeah?” Noel responded, sounding as if he didn’t understand where Hope was going with that. He moved to the stove, flipping the pancake easily with just the pan.
“I know I said cooking in exchange for staying here, but I meant — dinner, Noel. Dinner for yourself and I’ll take the leftovers. Not three meals a day and cutting into your time like this.”
“Well, that doesn’t seem fair.” Noel told him. “I don’t just sleep here, I live here, don’t I? And you’re just assuming that I only eat one meal a day.”
Hope flushed, feeling the last vestige of sleep slip away with how accute his embarrassment felt. “That’s not what I meant. I just — you don’t have to go to all this trouble if you’re, well — you don’t have to go out of the way to do all of this. It’s fine if that’s what you normally do for yourself, but I’ve survived cafeteria food for lunch before. For years, even. I know you’re plenty busy with everything else already.”
Noel’s movements at the cutting board slowed, and he pursed his lips before using his knife to help lift the cut fruits to throw into the blender before answering, “You’re right, I don’t normally do all of this for myself. Usually it’s cereal in the mornings, a sandwich for lunch, and whatever I have time for when it comes to dinner. Caius usually did all the fancy cooking and I was always too busy with other stuff.”
That sounded more accurate to what Hope knew of the other, as well as the interests of the average teenager.
“But hey, I’m an adult now. I’m resolving to eat healthier. Of course, come finals I’m pretty sure it’ll all go back to cereal and sandwiches, but until then…” He started up the blender with a shrug, and Hope nearly winced at the noise. Luckily, the blending process took mere seconds to complete. “Until then, I don’t know. I feel better knowing you’re eating what I made instead of cafeteria food. I know I’d rather not eat cafeteria food.”
Noel poured half of the contents from the blender into a nearby tall glass, and then handed the glass over to Hope. “So don’t worry about it. I’m doing all this cooking for myself, and I like cooking for you. You know, if that’s what you’re worried about. Here, try this.”
Hope accepted the glass gingerly, the drink cool between his fingers. He had no arguments if Noel wasn’t actually doing this for him, although… “What is it?”
“Same as last time. Except with fresh fruits, and I’m trying to get it to taste better.”
It certainly smelled pleasant enough, like strawberries and mangoes. Hope wasn’t yet hungry and didn’t think that he was done speaking to Noel about the younger man getting up before six in the morning just to cook meals for the day (and having to prepare everything the night before? Wasn’t that too much, now?), but with the expectant look the brunet was giving him, he decided to give the drink a try.
“...It’s good.” Hope admitted, almost reluctantly.
Noel beamed. “Okay, now you need to get ready for work and I need to finish this up. Breakfast will be ready in five.”
Hope felt, for some reason, that he lost an entire argument there and couldn’t confirm what it was.
.
.
.
“I was right!” Alyssa all but shrieked during lunchtime as she suddenly popped up from right behind Hope, who nearly dropped his entire lunch in fright. She grasped onto his shoulders, towering over him as he hunched down further in his seat involuntarily thanks to her diminutive weight bearing down on him (really, it was mostly her larger-than-life presence that cowed people rather than her physical size) as she shook him in a way that reminded him greatly of his friend Vanille. “Potato salad? Mushroom soup? Director Hope! Are those heart-shaped sugar cookies homemade?”
“Absolutely not,” Hope lied despite having seen them come out of the oven just that morning.
“There is something fishy going on here. A cute roommate who cooks and bakes? Sounds too good to be true.” She announced, leaning right over his head to squint down at the food, sniffing delicately to take in the blend of aromas. “Maybe you should let me have some just to make sure it’s not poisoned. I’ll take the cookies—”
Hope held the bag of baked goods to himself protectively with both hands, still burdened by Alyssa’s weight. “No. Get your own cute roommate.”
“So he is cute!” Alyssa crowed, pumping a fist in his success (nearly elbowing Hope’s head in the process) and somehow more enthusiastic than she had been last Friday. “Oooh, now I really need to meet him.”
“Don’t you have to head down to the food court?” Hope asked instead, cursing himself for his previous words. He let Alyssa get to him that time, dictating what he said. “If you’re late, the lineups mean you won’t have time to properly eat lunch.”
“Homemade cookies.” Alyssa stressed, ignoring him entirely. “They look fresh.”
“Alyssa.”
“And here I thought you were the sharing type, Director Hope.” Alyssa told him with a pout. She leaned her face in close, far too close for his personal comfort as Hope attempted to slide away in his seat, and insisted, “You’ve got to bring him in so the rest of us can get a good look. Don’t just horde him all to yourself! I mean, your mom’s far too nice and it’s not like you’ve got people outside of work who’s going to make sure he’s not some creeper—”
“I have friends outside work!” Hope protested weakly with a frown, refusing to lesson his grip on the bag of sugar cookies even as she tried to reach for it once more.
“—or that you’re not just taking advantage of his cooking skills to keep yourself alive—”
“Aina!” Hope called out desperately to his open office door, having given up on trying to actually get his assistant to listen to him. If he was very, very lucky, then either Aina or Nena Stein would still be in the lab and come to his rescue. It was easier to call for the younger twin seeing as Nena was actually Alyssa’s best friend and on the rare occasions of mischief, her partner-in-crime, but Aina had a sense of professionalism Hope appreciated. If Alyssa weren’t as brilliant as she was, Hope might have chosen to work alongside Aina Stein instead.
That, if nothing else, managed to halt Alyssa’s rant. “What? No! Don’t share the cookies with her instead!”
Hope reminded himself to lock his door during lunchtimes, and then wondered just how he could get Alyssa out.
.
.
.
Noel very discretely placed his book down as he felt the buzz in his pocket, pulling out his phone slowly to ensure no one else noticed, and checked his messages.
Alyssa won’t leave me alone about the lunches.
Another vibration, and a new message appeared.
She insists on meeting you. And tried to steal my cookies. :(
Noel glanced around himself surreptitiously, noting that no one else seemed to notice his inattention as the professor continued the lecture, and then swiped back, Did she succeed?
There was mere moments before he got a response: No.
Don’t worry, Noel swiped onto his phone, trying to suppress his grin. Next time I’ll put your name on it.
The reply came a minute later: She might take it anyway.
She won’t take that one.
.
.
.
(The next day Hope decided to eat the large cookie Noel included first before Alyssa, or anyone else really, could have a chance to find it and read the incriminating ‘Will you marry me, Hope?’ text on it.)
Fandom: Lightning Returns
Character/Pairing(s): pre-Noel/Hope STILL, and Alyssa
Rating: G
Warning: maybe second-hand embarrassment
Summary: Impressions-verse; Noel is a much better cook than Hope anticipated.
There was a yellow post-it note left for him that morning on the kitchen table.
Don't forget to eat this time. Was written on it in messy block words with a simple happy face at the end, obviously scrawled in a hurry. Below the note was a brown paper bag, and further examination revealed a plastic-wrapped sandwich with a stick on it that said, 'For Lunch!' and a childish juice-box.
Besides the bag with post-it note was a plate with a bagel on it, grilled and cut in half to sandwich thick leaves of lettuce and sliced tomatoes, and smeared on one side with cream cheese. It was pushed to the side of the plate by a small plastic cup filled to the top with various cut fruits and berries with a toothpick sticking out on top for convenience. There was a small folded piece of paper on the plate in the front, with the same writing saying, 'For Breakfast - Eat me!'
Other than that, the kitchen was spotlessly clean, even more so than how Hope usually left it.
He stood there for a moment, still in pajamas and bare feet, confused by just where the food came from as the scent of coffee gradually cleared through the layers of sleep still clinging to his brain.
It was a Thursday. Thursdays meant that Noel had early morning classes, and was the one day of the week where the younger man managed to climb out of bed even before Hope, who was ready to leave the apartment by seven each morning. Thanks to Noel's football practice, the both of them managed to run into each other in the mornings, but they were both usually far too busy to do much more than exchange greetings.
While Noel stopped back periodically through the day between his classes, Hope was at work until evenings, when Noel already left for his job in the city. Despite being only two weeks into the semester for Noel, they seemed to rarely catch more than a few minutes together except on the weekend, when Noel had already been roped into several study groups and several fraternities that kept inviting him over.
They managed to catch each other for half an hour the night previous, since Hope was staying up late to respond to several emails he hadn’t gotten to the week previous, and Noel had come home and made them both tea, talking about the challenges of settling down here while Hope half paid attention and let the other ramble on.
What prompted the breakfast and lunch, though…?
Oh, right. Hope might have made an off-hand comment when asked about his working late, something about rather finishing everything the night prior than scrambling to do everything during his lunch hour before going back to work.
It was a sweet thought, a gesture amongst many which Hope was slowly acclimating to while living with Noel.
But as sweet as that gesture was, the younger man should spend his rare free time on himself instead.
Ignoring the warmth of his cheeks and the vague satisfaction in his chest, Hope made a mental note to tell Noel that the next time they saw each other.
.
.
.
“Here,” Noel told him the next morning as they were both getting ready for the day, Hope taking just a moment in the kitchen to stop and enjoy his coffee. “Try this.”
The younger man handed him a cup half filled with a thick light green liquid with a consistency Hope would have described as akin to a smoothie, smelling just a little sweet. Hope hesitated, and then reluctantly set aside his mug of coffee to take it.
“Don’t smell, just drink.” Noel told him, and Hope did just that, downing the half cup quickly and then pulling back from the glass to make a face. That wasn’t a smoothie at all — while cool, there was a grainy, sandy texture that stayed on his tongue along with a lingering sweetness (vanilla chai?) he wasn’t quite fond of.
“What — what is that?” Hope asked, scraping his tongue along the back of his teeth. While the taste wasn’t the worst thing in the world, it wasn’t exactly something he would have voluntarily consumed on his own.
“Six servings of vegetables, a daily recommendation of protein, and so many different vitamins and minerals and other things that I don’t even remember any of it.” Noel told him cheerfully, accepting the glass back. He made a thoughtful noise, though, as he studied Hope’s expression. “Although maybe I should have gotten this to you before the coffee…”
At the reminder, Hope raised his coffee mug again and took a sip to rid the lingering sweetness in his mouth.
“Good? Bad? Should I never give you any food ever again?”
“It’s…” Hope had to think for a moment on his own reaction. “Not terrible. A little warning may have been nice.”
Noel brightened. “Duly noted.”
With that said, the teenager took the empty glass to wash in the sink before placing it on the dish rack to dry and pulled his bookbag over his head, letting it settle over the dark hoodie he had half zipped with sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Hope glanced at the watch on his wrist and got up as well, deciding that he already overused the free time he had in the morning.
“Don’t forget your lunch!” Noel called out, just as cheerful, before he was out the door to get his bike.
The words sparked the reminder to speak with Noel about his time allotment, “Noel, wait—”
Except the other man was already gone, and Hope was left floundering as he finally noticed the brown paper bag left on the counter with his name written on it in large block letters.
Not again!
.
.
.
Where did you learn to make pad thai?
“Director.” Alyssa’s voice startled Hope out of his thoughts, and he set his phone down a little too hard as he jerked straight in his chair. It didn’t help that she thumped her hands down on his desk to grab his attention as well, not that she really needed to. “We need to talk, and I’d like for you to answer me truthfully: did you get a girlfriend recently?”
“What?” Hope squeaked, and then flushed deeply at her accusing glare, feeling himself sink down into his seat. “No— no, why would you think— wait, why is that even relevant?”
“Doggy-bagged lunches!” She hissed at him, flailing her arms up in the air as if to emphasize her point. “Secret texts during work! Soon you’ll be skipping meetings for a romantic rendezvous out under the stars!”
“We don’t have meetings that late at night.” Hope corrected her a little nervously, and then added, “Not unless I’m missing something. Which I think I am right now.”
“You’re being pulled into the nefarious plans of some exotic femme fatale!” Alyssa warned him quite seriously, and then amended herself, “Or you’ve been learning how to cook, in which case I’d like to respectfully sign up as your guinea pig on that: those lunches look delicious. Make me some, too?”
There was a buzz from his phone, and Hope glanced down for a brief moment to take in Noel’s response: Yeul’s got a taste for Thai food. Did I find something you like? :)
He looked up again to see Alyssa’s suspicious blue eyes staring intently at him, and then purposely turning her gaze to his phone and then back to his face. Hope could feel his ears heat up.
“You’ve got—!” She shrieked, and then covered her mouth with both hands as Hope cringed at the volume. She glanced at the door to his office suspiciously, and then uncovered her mouth, leaning over his desk to mock whisper, “I was right! You’ve got a secret girlfriend you haven’t told me about!”
“I do not!” Hope hissed back at her, feeling like any more of this and he might just spontaneously combust. He was fairly certain even the back of his neck was red now with how embarrassed he was just watching her kick her feet in excitement, leaning most of her weight on his desk. Alyssa was grinning at him slyly, and Hope had to curse his choice in friends.
He couldn’t help his surprise at her grin, though, since the recent weeks had her strangely aloof whenever he was around.
(What Hope didn’t understand, despite Alyssa joining his department mere months after he did, being the same age as him and then strong-arming her way into the position of his assistant and always managing to be where he was, was that there had been a time where she fancied herself dating him. When Hope agreed to review projects with her after hours, she would bring wine and champagne flutes. When he went for lunch, she would follow him and then sit at the same table as him, speaking about television shows he never watched while he tried not to look too confused. They would ‘accidentally’ run into each other frequently during weekends, not just because Alyssa knew and handled his schedule or anything…
What neither of them knew, however, was that during those months the rest of the department had a betting pool on which one of them would realize what was going on first: whether Hope would find out he was actually unwittingly dating Alyssa, or whether Alyssa would realize Hope hadn’t a clue what she was doing.
So far, no one won that pool yet seeing as Alyssa decided to ‘break it off’ just several weeks ago, pulling a very confused Hope aside to gently explain to him about how they just weren’t working out, except in not-so-direct words, and then took his later expressions of befuddlement to mean he was still pining after her. Alyssa hadn’t the heart to give him false hope, and had distanced herself rather successfully the past several weeks, if she did say so herself.
What Hope had gotten from that disastrous break-up conversation had been that Alyssa was currently having a bit of guy trouble, that she didn’t think he looked at her the same way he used to, and that if she wasn’t as attentive, then it wasn’t because of him, it was because of her.
She reiterated that last part to him several times. He couldn’t help but stare at her more often after that, wondering just what she meant by ‘the way he used to look at her’.)
“Maybe I should have learned how to cook.” She said mysteriously, shooting one of her strange looks at him. Hope didn’t comment, feeling like anything he might say would have a high chance of upsetting her. “You never texted me in the middle of work.”
“Of course I have.” He told her. He could recall several instances when he needed a quick answer and had asked her for help through the phone. “I just usually don’t because you’re within audio range.” Usually close enough that he didn’t need to raise his voice the slightest bit.
Alyssa ignored that statement. “So what’s her name?”
“Who?”
“The mysterious girlfriend, of course!” She informed him, now more on his desk than on the floor, leaning precariously into his personal space. “The one you’re texting! The one making you lunches, or has you learning to cook so you can make lunches and impress her!”
Hope leaned back into his chair to avoid her fervent enthusiasm. “I told you: there’s no girl! I have a new roommate, and, uh, I guess he likes cooking…”
“A new roommate?” Her voice was shrill. “I didn’t know you were renting out your guestroom! Who is he? You need to be careful, Director Hope, with society the way it is lately, who’s to tell if you’ve rented out your place to a serial killer?”
“He’s not a serial killer.” Hope told her. “He’s a student at the Academy. I used to babysit him.”
The blonde deflated a bit from her eager assumptions, pouting. “Well, that’s boring. At least he cooks. Is he nice? What am I talking about, of course he is if he’s actually making you lunches. Is he cute? Tell me he’s cute. Tell me he’s cute and that he walks around your place in a towel after showering.”
“You seem to have made up your own mind without any help from me.” Hope intoned dryly, frowning just the slightest. He was reluctant to admit that she was right on all accounts.
“You used to babysit him?” Alyssa asked, aghast, as if she suddenly comprehended what he told her. “Just how old is he? Are you living with jailbait?”
The last question was, sadly, particularly loud, and Hope once again flushed as he heard the conversations outside his office stutter to a halt. Alyssa didn’t seem to notice at all.
“Oh my god.” She exclaimed. “You have a cute jailbait roommate who makes you lunches. Who makes you lunches and is cute and walks around in nothing but a towel.”
“He’s not jailbait and you are making assumptions!” Hope protested, just loudly enough that anyone listening into the conversation would hear. “He’s a nice kid I know who worked hard to get into the Academy and needed a place to stay since we all know the dorms around here charge an arm and leg, and I told him he could cook in exchange for the room since it’s not like I was going to charge him for the place when I wanted to help out and he needs to save money for school and I know his grandmother, Alyssa! He’s eighteen, okay?”
She paused, shocked for a moment by Hope’s uncharacteristic outburst.
“Okay,” she finally relented, and then asked, “But is he cute?”
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“Wait, who’s Alyssa?” Noel asked, expression blank as Hope regaled the younger man about his day as they sat at the tiny dining table in Hope’s kitchen over a dinner of pasta and garlic bread.
“My assistant — Alyssa Zaidelle. She used to set me up on these blind dates,” What Hope hadn’t known was that they weren’t dates so much as her attempting to intimidate other girls away from him, “and now she wants to come over to make sure you’re not some random serial killer.”
Her exact intention had been to check out the ‘cute roommate’ whom she assumed barely wore a smidgen of clothing, but Hope balked at the idea of telling Noel that.
Instead, he worked at stabbing one of the miniature tomatoes on his plate with his fork.
They established a habit of dinner together late Friday nights, because neither of them needed to wake up early the next morning. It was the one meal Hope actually cooked during the weekdays, seeing as he got home before Noel. That meant the meal usually consisted of his limited recipes of salad, pastas, or meatloaf.
It wasn’t that Hope didn’t know how to cook, it was mostly that he was far too tired by the time he got home that the simplest recipes were the most appealing to him.
Noel made a strangled noise, and then gestured for Hope to continue. “Blind dates?”
He didn’t understand how that was the part Noel chose to pick out, when Alyssa had implied the younger man might actually be a serial killer.
“Uh. Yes. They didn’t work out very well.” Hope cleared his throat even as he speared one of the tomatoes, fingers twitching around his fork in remembrance. “I’m afraid I’m not quite suited for events like that.”
“Oh, that’s good.” Noel breathed out, and then tensed before huffing out a laugh, the sound nervous and somewhat fake. “I don’t mean that’s a good thing, I just mean. Um. It’s good that you know… so you know what to avoid next time?”
“No more blind dates.” Hope agreed, for some reason feeling slightly cheered by Noel’s nervousness.
“So how did you get Alyssa as your assistant, anyway? You never told me.”
“Well…” Hope hesitated, and glanced up to see Noel staring curiously, one elbow on the table with his chin propped on his hand, food half finished and ignored in favor of listening to Hope. He should have said something about it being bad manners to put body parts on the table, but Hope couldn’t find himself minding. Instead, he hesitantly began the story of how Alyssa would follow him around at work, to her strange interferences, how she seemed to have some sort of sixth sense regarding where he was at all times, up to her latest behaviors.
Noel looked rather dejected in the beginning, but then for some reason started laughing as Hope described how he told Alyssa off for bringing alcoholic beverages (wine) and fire hazards (candles) into the workplace, especially when they had been alone and wouldn’t be able to deal with the repercussions should something disastrous happen.
In the end, the younger man ended up doubled over on the table from laughter by the time Hope, still confused, described the strange ‘talk’ Alyssa pulled him aside to have with him.
.
.
.
In the end, every attempt Hope made to dissuade Noel of cooking any more than just dinners for the two of them were easily foiled as Noel distracted him with various stories of his own of his classmates, his teammates, and the kids he was teaching at work as an assistant defense instructor in the city.
Somehow, Hope found himself so caught up in Noel’s stories that he forgot all about the topic once the younger man started speaking.
.
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.
Monday morning woke Hope up with the scent of fresh coffee and warm baking.
He padded sleepily into the kitchen to investigate the delicious smells, bypassing most of his morning routine even as he yawned into a hand and tried to rub his eyes awake. The kitchen lights were bright despite it barely being sunrise, warm and cozy despite the usual morning chill.
“Good morning!”
Hope just stood there, unsure whether he was actually awake or whether it was just a very strange dream. Noel was bustling about the kitchen wearing an apron Nora had originally gifted her son (which Hope had put away and never could find again), baby blue accented with darker blue streaks painted across it to make it look more like an artist apron than one for the kitchen. The brunette had his hair tied back into a small ponytail and his bangs mostly pinned out of the way as he cut up several fruits, a sizzling on the stove drawing Hope’s attention to pancakes in need of being flipped and a pot of bubbling soup.
“Noel.” Hope shook his head, blinking several times to confirm what he was seeing. “It’s six in the morning. How long have you been up?”
“Oh, don’t worry.” Noel told him with a smile, still chopping. “I only started about ten minutes ago and it’ll all be done in another twenty minutes or so. It doesn’t actually take that long. I did most of the prep last night. You should get ready for work — don’t worry, I’m not going to burn the place down or anything.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about.” Hope said. “You should be focused on your studies. And — you’re busy with practice, too!”
“Yeah?” Noel responded, sounding as if he didn’t understand where Hope was going with that. He moved to the stove, flipping the pancake easily with just the pan.
“I know I said cooking in exchange for staying here, but I meant — dinner, Noel. Dinner for yourself and I’ll take the leftovers. Not three meals a day and cutting into your time like this.”
“Well, that doesn’t seem fair.” Noel told him. “I don’t just sleep here, I live here, don’t I? And you’re just assuming that I only eat one meal a day.”
Hope flushed, feeling the last vestige of sleep slip away with how accute his embarrassment felt. “That’s not what I meant. I just — you don’t have to go to all this trouble if you’re, well — you don’t have to go out of the way to do all of this. It’s fine if that’s what you normally do for yourself, but I’ve survived cafeteria food for lunch before. For years, even. I know you’re plenty busy with everything else already.”
Noel’s movements at the cutting board slowed, and he pursed his lips before using his knife to help lift the cut fruits to throw into the blender before answering, “You’re right, I don’t normally do all of this for myself. Usually it’s cereal in the mornings, a sandwich for lunch, and whatever I have time for when it comes to dinner. Caius usually did all the fancy cooking and I was always too busy with other stuff.”
That sounded more accurate to what Hope knew of the other, as well as the interests of the average teenager.
“But hey, I’m an adult now. I’m resolving to eat healthier. Of course, come finals I’m pretty sure it’ll all go back to cereal and sandwiches, but until then…” He started up the blender with a shrug, and Hope nearly winced at the noise. Luckily, the blending process took mere seconds to complete. “Until then, I don’t know. I feel better knowing you’re eating what I made instead of cafeteria food. I know I’d rather not eat cafeteria food.”
Noel poured half of the contents from the blender into a nearby tall glass, and then handed the glass over to Hope. “So don’t worry about it. I’m doing all this cooking for myself, and I like cooking for you. You know, if that’s what you’re worried about. Here, try this.”
Hope accepted the glass gingerly, the drink cool between his fingers. He had no arguments if Noel wasn’t actually doing this for him, although… “What is it?”
“Same as last time. Except with fresh fruits, and I’m trying to get it to taste better.”
It certainly smelled pleasant enough, like strawberries and mangoes. Hope wasn’t yet hungry and didn’t think that he was done speaking to Noel about the younger man getting up before six in the morning just to cook meals for the day (and having to prepare everything the night before? Wasn’t that too much, now?), but with the expectant look the brunet was giving him, he decided to give the drink a try.
“...It’s good.” Hope admitted, almost reluctantly.
Noel beamed. “Okay, now you need to get ready for work and I need to finish this up. Breakfast will be ready in five.”
Hope felt, for some reason, that he lost an entire argument there and couldn’t confirm what it was.
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.
“I was right!” Alyssa all but shrieked during lunchtime as she suddenly popped up from right behind Hope, who nearly dropped his entire lunch in fright. She grasped onto his shoulders, towering over him as he hunched down further in his seat involuntarily thanks to her diminutive weight bearing down on him (really, it was mostly her larger-than-life presence that cowed people rather than her physical size) as she shook him in a way that reminded him greatly of his friend Vanille. “Potato salad? Mushroom soup? Director Hope! Are those heart-shaped sugar cookies homemade?”
“Absolutely not,” Hope lied despite having seen them come out of the oven just that morning.
“There is something fishy going on here. A cute roommate who cooks and bakes? Sounds too good to be true.” She announced, leaning right over his head to squint down at the food, sniffing delicately to take in the blend of aromas. “Maybe you should let me have some just to make sure it’s not poisoned. I’ll take the cookies—”
Hope held the bag of baked goods to himself protectively with both hands, still burdened by Alyssa’s weight. “No. Get your own cute roommate.”
“So he is cute!” Alyssa crowed, pumping a fist in his success (nearly elbowing Hope’s head in the process) and somehow more enthusiastic than she had been last Friday. “Oooh, now I really need to meet him.”
“Don’t you have to head down to the food court?” Hope asked instead, cursing himself for his previous words. He let Alyssa get to him that time, dictating what he said. “If you’re late, the lineups mean you won’t have time to properly eat lunch.”
“Homemade cookies.” Alyssa stressed, ignoring him entirely. “They look fresh.”
“Alyssa.”
“And here I thought you were the sharing type, Director Hope.” Alyssa told him with a pout. She leaned her face in close, far too close for his personal comfort as Hope attempted to slide away in his seat, and insisted, “You’ve got to bring him in so the rest of us can get a good look. Don’t just horde him all to yourself! I mean, your mom’s far too nice and it’s not like you’ve got people outside of work who’s going to make sure he’s not some creeper—”
“I have friends outside work!” Hope protested weakly with a frown, refusing to lesson his grip on the bag of sugar cookies even as she tried to reach for it once more.
“—or that you’re not just taking advantage of his cooking skills to keep yourself alive—”
“Aina!” Hope called out desperately to his open office door, having given up on trying to actually get his assistant to listen to him. If he was very, very lucky, then either Aina or Nena Stein would still be in the lab and come to his rescue. It was easier to call for the younger twin seeing as Nena was actually Alyssa’s best friend and on the rare occasions of mischief, her partner-in-crime, but Aina had a sense of professionalism Hope appreciated. If Alyssa weren’t as brilliant as she was, Hope might have chosen to work alongside Aina Stein instead.
That, if nothing else, managed to halt Alyssa’s rant. “What? No! Don’t share the cookies with her instead!”
Hope reminded himself to lock his door during lunchtimes, and then wondered just how he could get Alyssa out.
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Noel very discretely placed his book down as he felt the buzz in his pocket, pulling out his phone slowly to ensure no one else noticed, and checked his messages.
Alyssa won’t leave me alone about the lunches.
Another vibration, and a new message appeared.
She insists on meeting you. And tried to steal my cookies. :(
Noel glanced around himself surreptitiously, noting that no one else seemed to notice his inattention as the professor continued the lecture, and then swiped back, Did she succeed?
There was mere moments before he got a response: No.
Don’t worry, Noel swiped onto his phone, trying to suppress his grin. Next time I’ll put your name on it.
The reply came a minute later: She might take it anyway.
She won’t take that one.
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.
(The next day Hope decided to eat the large cookie Noel included first before Alyssa, or anyone else really, could have a chance to find it and read the incriminating ‘Will you marry me, Hope?’ text on it.)