Page 46 of Love Lives
Which had already been a huge fucking step in the right direction. Remy had pushed him away, yes, but the important thing was, he hadn't told Aldrich not to do it again. Just to do it in his own body next time.
Aldrich could work with that. But not if he kept talking about killing people. Instead, he turned the conversation to food. He gestured at the meat. "No minestrone tonight?"
"Why would I be making that?"
"I figured it's your go-to for stressful situations."
"That's..." Remy started to say something, then paused, as if suddenly lacking the words. His forehead wrinkled."I feel like you're right, but..." He shook his head, then stared at his cooking utensils in confusion. "Did I have a reason? I feel like I had a reason for that..."
Aldrich studied him carefully. "You don't remember." Of course. That was what he had sacrificed to the Seeker Stone. The memory of his grandmother. Aldrich grimaced. He didn't think that memories were as important as everyone here claimed they were, but that one had obviously meant a lot to Remy. He hadn't only lost a memory. He'd also lost his way of calming himself down. Aldrich had loved watching Remy make that dish, even if he himself had never eaten it. It had just been a part of Remy.
"You know what?" Aldrich rose from his stool. "I'll remind you."
"Remind me?"
"Watch and learn." Aldrich gave Remy a smile and pushed him to sit on the stool he'd just vacated. Remy looked at him with bemusement, but did as he was told while Aldrich rummaged around the kitchen for a pot, a knife, and a chopping board, among other things. What else was he going to need? A measuring cup? Maybe. Would all the ingredients be in the fridge? No, some would be in the cupboard.
"Are you really going to cook?" Remy asked.
"Can't be that hard." Aldrich shrugged. "I've seen you do it often enough." At least he hoped it had been often enough for him to recreate the recipe, otherwise this was going to be embarrassing.
"Do you even know how to cook? Have you ever cooked anything?"
"Blood doesn't need to be cooked." Aldrich glanced at Remy, whose face was taking on a thoughtful expression as if he were already coming up with different ways that hecoulduse blood in his cooking. "Cut it out," Aldrich said. "You don't need to use blood as an ingredient. You're not Puck."
Remy gave a short laugh. "I guess not."
Aldrich smiled to himself. He'd made the mortal laugh. That was a good first step. Now he only needed to get the dish right. Most of the things he needed, he found in the fridge, some in the pantry, like the onions. He lined them all up on the counter before him.
"You also need tomato paste," Remy reminded him. "And don't use too much of the--"
Aldrich held up a hand. "I got it." Confidently, he lined the onions up on the chopping block, peeled them, and cut into them.
It was really fucking different from slicing through meat and bones. Not difficult, though. Aldrich was convinced that he could be a great cook if he wanted to be. He risked another glance at Remy. Remy didn't seem to have a comment, though. The mortal only watched him curiously.
"What do you think?" Aldrich prompted. "Am I doing okay so far?"
"I guess you've successfully completed step one." His lips twitched up again. "You know, I can't even remember the last time someone's cooked for me."
"Well, why would they? Everything you make is better." Aldrich grabbed the carrots and started cutting into those too. They were a little tougher than the onions, but no match for Aldrich's strength.
"That's not the point," Remy argued, then tilted his head at Aldrich. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because this is what your grandma used to make for you." Aldrich wasn't sure if that was enough of an answer, but he didn't have a better one. "It's sad that you forgot that."
Remy's mouth opened, but no words came out. Aldrich left him to think on it while he continued his meal-prep. Really, this wasn't so hard. Mortals were kicking up way too big of a fuss over this. Or maybe Aldrich was just naturally talented. Yeah, that was more likely.
When he had all the ingredients simmering in a pot on the stove, Remy spoke up again. "This is the point where you'd season to taste."
"Yeah, no, sorry." Aldrich turned to Remy with a regretful smile. "Not a fan of puking my guts out."
"I could do it for you."
Aldrich considered this. He'd wanted to make this meal all by himself, but maybe he could let Remy help him with this one small thing? "All right," he conceded. "Get over here."
Remy left his stool and eyed Aldrich's creation critically before getting a spoon and raising it to his lips. His expression didn't change at all while he tasted the soup. Without saying anything, he grabbed a few spice jars and sprinkled their contents into the pot. He stirred and tasted again. This time, his brows furrowed, as if he was trying to pinpoint exactly what quantity of which spice was missing.
Aldrich kind of wanted to kiss him, just to throw him off his game. If he did, would he be able to taste his own soup on Remy's lips? Trace amounts wouldn't make him throw up... Probably.
