kukkijar | Teddy Altman ; APPOINTMENTS

Hey now, slow down. If the elf's calling for cinnamon rolls, then that's what you have to make.

[He moves around to pass a hand over the page, trying to wipe away the flour smears and get a good look at the ingredients and the cooking process.

... Honestly. It's almost the same as what he and his mom would do on Christmas day, save for a few changes here and there. And because of that, Teddy stays staring down at the page for a little longer than he ought to, barely even paying attention to the words and more seeming lost in his own world.

"Check the page, Teddy, my hands are gooey; how many eggs again? Three or four? Oh no, wipe your hands first, young man; we don't want flour on the page, now do we?"

... Ah, right.]

I've made these a few times. [More like every year at a certain time since he was six years old. Teddy lifts his gaze away from the book to drag the bowl closer to himself.] Want me to help?

Oh my god. Yes, please, you're my hero, can I just find some tinsel and wave them like pom-poms in the background or something? Does that still count?

[He glances over at the elves as if expecting an answer from them - shudders and looks away, because again, creepy - but doesn't hesitate to pull his hands out of the bowl, letting Teddy take control. It's not so much dough yet as a fluffy, gooey mess anyway, so hopefully Teddy can save it.]

Can we fry cinnamon rolls? Because I'm really good at fried food. It's practically written into my DNA.

[He finds a smile coming up in spite of the memories; it's just - Billy talking, Billy complaining, the image of Billy jumping in the background with tinsel in his hands and cheering him on. It's funny, definitely something to distract him from everything.

Though it doesn't last long, seeing how he has to get to work on this and figure out where Billy went wrong with it in the first place. Seriously, it's so easy to make, what did he do?]

No, we can't. I mean, you probably can, but the good kind -

["The good kind - "]

is baked and made with tender, loving care.

[Okay... let's see. More yeast, probably more flour, what with Billy having most of it in his hair and on his arms and shirt.]

[Billy lifts a brow at that, getting out of the way and standing there like a surgeon with his arms lifted, caked in the guts of his failed culinary attempt.]

...Well, that explains why I wasn't getting anywhere with it. Cinnamon rolls baked with violent contempt probably aren't as appealing.

[He sticks close though, peering over Teddy's shoulder to watch what he does, a mixture of curiosity, fascination, and reluctance in his expression. Much as he might like to slink off in defeat, he figures he at least has to be a part of the baking process for it to count.]

[Teddy chuckles softly to that, but otherwise, doesn't comment. In fact, now that he's working, he's pretty quiet, opting not to try conversing like he usually does. Though he'll answer if Billy talks with him, at least, but...

It gets to the point where he has to knead the dough until it's smooth, and... well, now he's starting to use a bit of violent contempt, pressing into it a little harder than he should with a frown on his face.

"Be careful, honey, you don't know your own strength!"]

[Billy watches quietly for a moment, brows furrowed; he shouldn't be the one to point out issues with the baking, since hey, obviously he's useless in this situation, but it sort of seems like Teddy's doing it even harder than he was, and after what Teddy said a minute ago...

His gaze drifts up to Teddy's expression, noting the frown. Hm. That won't do.

Quietly Billy winds his arms around Teddy's waist, resting his chin on the blond's shoulder, and mumbles into his ear.]

"Tender loving care", Tee? You're gonna crack the counter.

[The touches snap him out of it more than anything, and his hands stop, pressed against the dough and just shy of doing just what Billy said and cracking the counter. That's right... He's not with her, because hey, she died horribly and painfully right in front of his eyes and she can never do this with him, ever -

He squeezes his eyes shut and tries his best to just - to shift everything away. The lump in his throat, the shortness in breath that causes a hitch when he breathes in, the tension in his shoulders, the stinging in his eyes. But his focus is entirely off thanks to this, and because of that, he just fists his hands in the dough and keeps his head low, as if that'll hide what emotion's threatening to tear out.]

I'm sorry. It's just... I'll be okay. [Though not really, what with the way his voice shakes slightly at the end.]

Edited (typooooos) 2012-12-27 13:35 (UTC)

...Teddy...

[Even someone terrible at reading people couldn't have missed those cues, and he's well in-tune with Teddy's subtleties after this long. Billy hesitates, concerned at once, then slides his hands down to cover Teddy's, tugging his fingers away from the dough and twining them together. The fact that he'd been clenching the dough and practically pounding it against the counter top causes him no fear, only worry for his boyfriend. He nuzzles his cheek gently against Teddy's, thumbs stroking.]

Hey. You don't have to, if this is too hard...

[Not physically, not by far; Teddy's way too strong to let that bother him. But it's obviously affecting him, and badly. Something he said, or the act of cooking like this, or maybe the recipe? It's hard to tell. But he won't ask, not unless Teddy seems ready.]

It's not - It isn't hard, it's...

[That's such a lie that it hurts, but he doesn't want to abandon this just because it's hard. It's just cinnamon rolls, it's embarrassing to be affected like this over something so... so ridiculously simple and nostalgic.

He bites his lip, still keeping his head low. This... really isn't something he wants to talk about, but at the same time, Billy's pretty much the only person he can talk to about this. The "no secrets" thing isn't just to indulge him, after all.]

This was... our thing. Every year, after we opened the gifts. This exact thing. We'd make them together, even after I learned how to do it myself. Every year since I was six years old -

[Teddy doesn't tighten his fingers around Billy's more than they already are, lest he makes the hold uncomfortable, but his voice does shake again, and his shoulders tense a little more. He can just feel the tears in his eyes, but - he's determined to not let them fall over this.]

[Ah... his mom. He should have figured that- nothing gets Teddy shaken up like a memory of her, one that ought to be sweet and happy but will forever be tainted by her untimely death. Billy feels a pang of sympathy and yet another wave of concern. His posture, his lowered head, the waver in his voice... all clear signs that Teddy's holding back again.

Patiently he withdraws, tugging his hands free, but instead of pulling back like it might seem at first, he nudges Teddy away from the counter to face him, lifting his hands to press them against Teddy's cheeks, resting his forehead on the blond's. The gesture is wordless, but simple enough to understand: it's okay. I'm here.]

So that's why... you're such a good cook.

[He smiles faintly, a gentle encouragement, his thumbs brushing over Teddy's skin again.]

I didn't know.

[He won't apologize- he knows it's empty and pointless, since it's not like he was doing it to hurt Teddy on purpose. But it's as unspoken addendum to everything else his hands are saying for him.]

[It's one of the things he loves about Billy; when Teddy gets upset, he doesn't make a big deal out of it despite how rarely it happens. He just holds him like this, lets him know that it's okay through touch, the thing Teddy identifies with most, and doesn't coddle him. He doesn't apologize, and why should he? It wasn't his fault, after all. If anything, it's that elf, because he's pretty sure it knows exactly what this would do.

Teddy himself wraps his arms around his boyfriend's waist, though he's careful to keep his wrists crossed and his hands away, seeing how they're covered with dough. He doesn't meet Billy's eyes, seeing how his own are shining and his vision is blurred, but at least he's not trying to move his head away and hide again.]

... Sometimes I'd cook for her. She used to work late, and I'd try to surprise her by giving her something other than take out. I wasn't all that great at it, but she always liked it when I did that.

[He smiles a little, finally allowing a few tears to fall.]

She said she used to bake cinnamon rolls with her mother, and that's why she did it with me, too. And I know that isn't true now, but it was still... special. And now...

[Now she can't do this with him, ever. And now that he thinks about it, the reason why she liked Christmas so much and doing things like this with him, it wasn't family tradition or anything. Maybe she just liked spending time with him on her few days off. That kind of makes it worse.]

[This isn't something he can really understand, of course, not on the level that he might be most effective- his mothers are still alive and well (for which he is endlessly grateful), and he never celebrated the holidays like this, with presents and baking sweet things together. His Christmases had always been filled with Chinese food and movie theaters, his father's homemade latkes and his brothers singing the dreidel song until he wanted to punch them because it's the only one they could remember. There was no mistletoe or evergreen trees in the living room or tinsel everywhere.

He's so very, very out of his league.

Still, he wants to do whatever he can for Teddy; it hurts to see him in so much pain, even though he thinks that it's good for him to let it out sometimes, to cry for her and let himself feel it. It's not good to just bury it and have it simmer under the surface all the time. He kisses the corners of Teddy's lips, using his thumbs to brush aside the fallen tears, then wraps his arms around Teddy's shoulders, holding him close, his hand sliding up through the blond's hair. He's already covered in flour, so he doesn't care about that; all he wants is to be as close as Teddy needs him to be, to offer as much comfort as he can as long as Teddy's enduring this pain.]

It's different... I know. It's so hard to miss them in times like this. But she'd be so proud of you, Teddy...

[To hell with the dough; Teddy goes ahead and puts his hands against Billy's shoulder blades, a little close to the wings, and holds his boyfriend against him while he presses his mouth against the curve of his shoulder.

He doesn't like to grieve like this. It's always felt so terrible to him, so different, so - vulnerable. He's always used to feeling guarded, and that's what makes him so confident. When he's like this, every little insecurity just attacks him, and -

And if it weren't for Billy, Teddy isn't sure where he'd be today.

He may hate it, but with Billy here... It's better. He can think about how he's just a teenager and he's already lost almost everything in his life, how he isn't sure what to do without his mom, or without any of his parents for that matter. How he misses her, how he feels pathetic for crying like this when it's been months since her death, and it has to be hard for Billy too, but here he is just clinging to him and - and he knows Billy doesn't mind at all. But the thoughts just hit him anyway, making him tighten his hold a little.]

Proud? [It's muffled against Billy's shoulder, so he lowers his head free up his mouth.] I can't even make cinnamon rolls without... this.

Some people wouldn't be able to make them at all.

[He holds Teddy a little more tightly, gently stroking his hair and pressing his lips against the blond's cheek, the reassuring touches he knows that Teddy depends on like air.]

She always supported you, didn't she? I never got to know her that well, but I could see it every time I met her. You were her whole world.

And she was mine.

[His hold tightens as well; it's a silent message, that now Billy's his whole world. He was even before his mother died, and he's sure it was the only reason he got through her death as well as he did. If one could even call this "well".

But for such a long time, when friends - real, true friends were so hard to come by, that was her role. And to have it pulled away...]

Billy, I want - I think I need to keep going. I can't just stop doing things because it's too hard.

[If he was her whole world, then he needs to stop shying away from the things that remind him of her. But even though he said that, he doesn't really make a move to get back to it. Right now, he just needs a bit of time before he does that.]

...Mm. Whatever you want to do, T. No one's gonna force you one way or another.

[Especially not him, even if his baking is terrible- even if the stupid elf demands that he bake a million of them. He'd never want to intentionally cause Teddy that kind of pain.

He tightens his grip for a moment longer, then draws back, nudging his head against Teddy's to urge him up, pressing their foreheads together.]

Hey... I'm proud of you, too. You're so strong, Teddy... and I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'll be right here.

[He lets out a long sigh and shuts his eyes, his hands moving up to caress Billy's cheeks, then down to rest against the sides of his neck, where he gives a gentle squeeze while letting out a sigh.

Just give me a minute.

After that moment, he takes in a deep breath, slides his thumbs lightly against Billy's jawline, then opens his eyes to give a little smile.]

Thanks. I... heh.

[He finally pulls back, giving Billy's elbows one last touch before he wipes at his cheeks and eyes, then moves to the sink to wash his hands. Man, he should've done that before he even started...]

You'd better stay. Maybe you can learn a thing or two about baking.

[Billy gives him as long as he needs, finally nodding patiently and leaning in to kiss Teddy's cheek as he washes his hands, smiling faintly and sliding back into what he hopes is a more neutral expression and posture. He's learned not to coddle Teddy much after the fact, to give him as much of a normal interaction as possible once he's finally let himself have a good cry. They're such polar opposites when it comes to this, so it took some adjusting, but he figures he's gotten it down pat now.

And at least Teddy didn't try to say that he's okay again.]

I think getting you to make them by yourself would count as cheating anyway, and I'd rather not get scolded by a freaky-looking doll. We'll do it together.

[He knows he's no replacement for Teddy's mom - nor would he ever try to be - but maybe they can make a new tradition. And if not, at least they can try to enjoy themselves.]

[There's a small pause in Teddy's movements. Doing this together, huh? It won't be the same, he knows it, but...

Maybe it can be a new memory.

So he turns to smile, dimples and all.]

I'd like that a lot, actually.

[And with that, he goes back to the dough and gesture to a small bowl, where the melted butter is.]

You can at least brush this onto the dough, right?

[Ahhh, there's the smile he loves. Billy relaxes at the sight, stepping up to stand at Teddy's side, shoulder to shoulder, and eyes the butter bowl dubiously.]

Brush it on? That's what you do with that?

[Guess who didn't read the whole recipe before starting things out? Maybe that's why he can't cook to save his life.]

[Any other person might have thought it was obvious, but Teddy just nods patiently and begins to press the dough into a rectangle, one of the things he was trying to do before he attempted to smash the countertop. Not everyone was born to cook, after all.]

Yeah. It helps the rest of the ingredients stick to the dough, and it gives it a little more flavor. Think of it like you're painting it on. Let me just...

[It only takes a moment longer before he finishes, then gives Billy's shoulder a nudge with his own.]

Now. Show me what you've got, Mr. Future Artist.

[Billy can't resist a quiet scoff at that - really, he's comparing art to this? - but he smiles anyway, because while it is silly, it's Teddy being silly, and he's very glad to see that. So he follows Teddy's instructions, carefully smearing the butter over the surface of the dough, and once it's coated to his satisfaction, he brings a finger up to Teddy's face, 'painting' the melted butter over his boyfriend's lips.]

Well? What does the art critic say to that?

[Teddy makes a face and pulls his head back slightly, though a smile still graces his buttered up lips. He would make a quip about how Paula Deen would love to kiss these lips, except for the fact that it would sail over Billy's head; that's more of a joke to say around Jeff. Instead, his smile grows into something playful, and he leans in to brush his lips against Billy's, effectively smearing some of the butter against them as well as indulging in a kiss.

When he breaks the kiss, he lets out a quiet chuckle before he looks down to survey the work, idly peeking his tongue out to lick along his lips.]

Mm. I'd say it's something of a masterpiece myself. [Cooking is something of an art, after all, just of a different variety. Billy might not be able to cook well, but he's sure he can pull off parts of it, like this, with ease because of that.]

[Well, that's a pretty good reward for his supposed masterpiece. He licks his own lips somewhat thoughtfully, leaning in to check the recipe book for the next step.]

Good to know. The filling's next, right? Just spread it in evenly?

Mmhmm. And press it into the dough a little; gotta make sure it doesn't fall off or anything.

[With that, he pulls over the bowl with the filling, placing it between the two of them so that Billy can join in as well, then starts to sprinkle it over the dough.]

We're going to leave about half an inch of a border, too. [And, without looking, he flicks his fingers at Billy's cheek, flinging bits of the filling at him. Starting a food fight is probably a bad idea, but he just can't resist.]

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[action, december 20th] I need like the opposite of this icon lmao

[action, december 20th] And the only one that fits that description is the both of them crying

[action, december 20th] give billy five minutes and he'll cry too

[action, december 20th] as usual

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