Writerverse: Table of Doom - Idle Hands
Even more stuff that might take place in my I Prefer the Mind Control universe. Randomly, I'm considering changing the title to I Love the Mind Control, as I think that might make slightly more sense in the new canon. I'm gonna wait on any title changes, though. This one takes place after this. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!
---------
“Do you want me to make waffles?” Xan asks out of nowhere. He’s still holding my hand. We were just talking about Huge Major Secrets, and he wants to...make waffles? Is that the social protocol for when reveals of that scale happen? You say it’s just Xan being weird? Okay then, he is your character.
“Fucking waffles?” I ask. I try to keep myself from bursting into giggles. It’s just so random. A serious silence had fallen on the room, and then...fucking waffles?
“It’s my own recipe,” Xan says, smiling. “I invented it myself.”
Wait, what?
“You made your own waffle recipe? Like, picked out the ingredients to put in it and everything?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Is that so strange?” he says, still smiling.
I nod once. “Uh, yeah,” I say. “I mean, you’re a Prince. Back home, didn’t you have, like, an army of servants who can probably make better waffles than you since they’re trained in kitchen stuff?”
Xan takes his hand away from mine. “I assure you, Dylan, my waffles are better than anything the Palace cooks could come up with, though I did learn everything I know from them,” he huffs.
Oops, I didn’t mean to insult him. My cheeks burn, just a bit.
Syra rolls her eyes. “This one would sneak down to the kitchens and beg them to let him help out. He was useful there, so nobody minded him. A visiting dignitary actually thought he was one of the staff. Xan stole a uniform and helped serve dinner. As far as I know, the dignitary never figured it out.”
What?
“Are you fucking serious? Did you actually do that?” I stare at Xan, not believing it.
He, however, actually nods. Xan’s got this little smirk on his face, like he’s proud of the incident. “Yes, that happened. You should have seen the look on my dads’ faces when they saw it was me. They had the sense not to say anything; it would have been a terrible scandal if discovered.”
“If this dignitary guy was so important, shouldn’t he have, uh, known what you looked like?” I ask, shaking my head.
Xan keeps smirking. “Oh, I’m sure he had some idea of my appearance, but he couldn’t have imagined the truth, so he didn’t recognize me,” he says. “My dads always told us they didn’t want us to be idle, and I was, that day, the opposite of idle, yes?”
“While having nothing to do is supposed to be, like, evil, I don’t think pretending to be a server is very smart,” I say. But I’m kinda grinning, even if I think Xan lost all his marbles and then stole other people’s marbles so he could lose those, too.
Wait a second...”You have two dads?” I ask. “Your people let two guys be head of the government? You got any moms?” Hey, I don’t know know how many parents his people actually have. My cheeks burn again -- I’d vaguely heard how the Zimarans had two guys as leaders, but it hadn’t connected before. And I really know almost nothing about the Zimaran government, which makes me feel stupid. For that matter, I don’t actually know much about Xan, either. Even if we’re just friends with benefits, we should know more about each other, yeah? “Friends with benefits” are a kind of friend, after all.
“Yes, I have two dads. Unlike here in the National States, that’s perfectly ordinary on most parts of Zimara and not controversial at all. I don’t have any moms, no,” he says. He takes my hand again. “So how about those waffles?”
I laugh. “You really want some fucking waffles, don’t you?” What, do assassinations attempts make him hungry or something? I’m not sure I even have an appetite, but I guess I could have a royal waffle or two. Even if I’m still shaky.
“I’ll admit, I do want waffles,” he says.
“As fun as it would be to watch Xan try to make Dylan fall in love with him using waffles, I have things to do,” Syra mutters. She looks at Xan. “Are you going to be okay?”
He shifts oddly in his seat and looks...kinda stiff, but he nods. I guess he’s still stressed. Maybe waffles are, like, an anti-stressor? Right now, I’m still stressed. And Syra’s idea of humor is ridiculous.
She vanishes -- just like that. Kinda really freaky. Like everything that’s happened recently is fucking freaky.
* * *
Once I get a bite, I gotta admit, Xan’s waffles are fucking delicious. They’re like ecstasy in waffle form. How did he do that?
“Damn, these are tasty,” I say, grinning at him as we sit at his kitchen table. The waffles look like ordinary waffles with maple syrup, but they’re just so good. Maybe the ridiculous fancy plates have something to do with it? They’re black with silver -- real silver? -- trimming and scream “I spend more money on toilet paper each month than you see in a year.”
Xan grins back at me. He’s drop dead gorgeous when he smiles. And when he isn’t smiling. Not for the first time, I look at him and notice the perfect deeply tanned skin, shiny short black hair and distinctly Zimaran metallic eyes. His features seem outrageously symmetrical, and I wonder why he even wants me as a booty call. If I think about it, there’s something -- aside from the eyes -- alien about his face that I can’t put a finger on, but that makes him hotter.
“I’m glad you like my waffles,” Xan says. “It’s...nice when people appreciate them.”
“I’m always happy to be nice,” I murmur, before nearly smacking my forehead. That sounds so fucking stupid. Always happy to be nice? What is wrong with me?
Xan stares off in the distance before he turns back to me. His gaze is intense, but not the “I’m about to fuck you with my sexy mind control powers” kind of intense. “You really are nice, Dylan,” he says.
My heart stops for a moment -- he is definitely being weird. Who could blame him, though? Someone tried to fucking kill him. Hey, that gives me an idea. People in movies like to have sex because they’re that happy to be alive, right? I wonder if Xan would be up for some “glad to be alive” sex.
My cheeks burn. Usually, I’m not this self-conscious about the whole “let’s have sex” deal, but...it might be weird to say “hey, you were almost assassinated, wanna do it?”
“Um, Xan?” I mutter. “When we’re, like, done with the waffles, do you wanna, y’know, do it? I mean, you invited me out in the first place for that, right? And it would be...life-affirming, because we survived all those fucking bullets?” Smooth, self. Real smooth.
Mentioning the bullets reminds me of something -- have his bodyguards ever been watching us have sex? I wouldn’t actually mind being part of some voyeurism-type stuff, but only if the people told me they wanted to watch first.
“If you’re up for it, I am,” Xan says. His eyes widen, but they sparkle, as if he likes the idea.
“Oh, one other thing,” I say, looking away from him. “Your, uh, magic invisible bodyguards...they haven’t watched us do it, have they?”
Xan shakes his head. “Oh no, they’ve nevered watch. My people don’t do anything like voyeurism without getting consent first.”
I sigh in relief. “Good to know,” I say.
He smirks, and his eyes sparkle some more. “I’ll be sure to eat the rest of my waffles quickly. Most of the cleanup can wait until later, I think.” His meaning is super obvious.
My face splits into a huge fucking grin because my sexy alien friend with benefits still wants me and doesn’t find assassination attempts to be a total mood-killer.
I can tell we’re going to have fun when we’re done with our food.
---------
“Do you want me to make waffles?” Xan asks out of nowhere. He’s still holding my hand. We were just talking about Huge Major Secrets, and he wants to...make waffles? Is that the social protocol for when reveals of that scale happen? You say it’s just Xan being weird? Okay then, he is your character.
“Fucking waffles?” I ask. I try to keep myself from bursting into giggles. It’s just so random. A serious silence had fallen on the room, and then...fucking waffles?
“It’s my own recipe,” Xan says, smiling. “I invented it myself.”
Wait, what?
“You made your own waffle recipe? Like, picked out the ingredients to put in it and everything?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Is that so strange?” he says, still smiling.
I nod once. “Uh, yeah,” I say. “I mean, you’re a Prince. Back home, didn’t you have, like, an army of servants who can probably make better waffles than you since they’re trained in kitchen stuff?”
Xan takes his hand away from mine. “I assure you, Dylan, my waffles are better than anything the Palace cooks could come up with, though I did learn everything I know from them,” he huffs.
Oops, I didn’t mean to insult him. My cheeks burn, just a bit.
Syra rolls her eyes. “This one would sneak down to the kitchens and beg them to let him help out. He was useful there, so nobody minded him. A visiting dignitary actually thought he was one of the staff. Xan stole a uniform and helped serve dinner. As far as I know, the dignitary never figured it out.”
What?
“Are you fucking serious? Did you actually do that?” I stare at Xan, not believing it.
He, however, actually nods. Xan’s got this little smirk on his face, like he’s proud of the incident. “Yes, that happened. You should have seen the look on my dads’ faces when they saw it was me. They had the sense not to say anything; it would have been a terrible scandal if discovered.”
“If this dignitary guy was so important, shouldn’t he have, uh, known what you looked like?” I ask, shaking my head.
Xan keeps smirking. “Oh, I’m sure he had some idea of my appearance, but he couldn’t have imagined the truth, so he didn’t recognize me,” he says. “My dads always told us they didn’t want us to be idle, and I was, that day, the opposite of idle, yes?”
“While having nothing to do is supposed to be, like, evil, I don’t think pretending to be a server is very smart,” I say. But I’m kinda grinning, even if I think Xan lost all his marbles and then stole other people’s marbles so he could lose those, too.
Wait a second...”You have two dads?” I ask. “Your people let two guys be head of the government? You got any moms?” Hey, I don’t know know how many parents his people actually have. My cheeks burn again -- I’d vaguely heard how the Zimarans had two guys as leaders, but it hadn’t connected before. And I really know almost nothing about the Zimaran government, which makes me feel stupid. For that matter, I don’t actually know much about Xan, either. Even if we’re just friends with benefits, we should know more about each other, yeah? “Friends with benefits” are a kind of friend, after all.
“Yes, I have two dads. Unlike here in the National States, that’s perfectly ordinary on most parts of Zimara and not controversial at all. I don’t have any moms, no,” he says. He takes my hand again. “So how about those waffles?”
I laugh. “You really want some fucking waffles, don’t you?” What, do assassinations attempts make him hungry or something? I’m not sure I even have an appetite, but I guess I could have a royal waffle or two. Even if I’m still shaky.
“I’ll admit, I do want waffles,” he says.
“As fun as it would be to watch Xan try to make Dylan fall in love with him using waffles, I have things to do,” Syra mutters. She looks at Xan. “Are you going to be okay?”
He shifts oddly in his seat and looks...kinda stiff, but he nods. I guess he’s still stressed. Maybe waffles are, like, an anti-stressor? Right now, I’m still stressed. And Syra’s idea of humor is ridiculous.
She vanishes -- just like that. Kinda really freaky. Like everything that’s happened recently is fucking freaky.
* * *
Once I get a bite, I gotta admit, Xan’s waffles are fucking delicious. They’re like ecstasy in waffle form. How did he do that?
“Damn, these are tasty,” I say, grinning at him as we sit at his kitchen table. The waffles look like ordinary waffles with maple syrup, but they’re just so good. Maybe the ridiculous fancy plates have something to do with it? They’re black with silver -- real silver? -- trimming and scream “I spend more money on toilet paper each month than you see in a year.”
Xan grins back at me. He’s drop dead gorgeous when he smiles. And when he isn’t smiling. Not for the first time, I look at him and notice the perfect deeply tanned skin, shiny short black hair and distinctly Zimaran metallic eyes. His features seem outrageously symmetrical, and I wonder why he even wants me as a booty call. If I think about it, there’s something -- aside from the eyes -- alien about his face that I can’t put a finger on, but that makes him hotter.
“I’m glad you like my waffles,” Xan says. “It’s...nice when people appreciate them.”
“I’m always happy to be nice,” I murmur, before nearly smacking my forehead. That sounds so fucking stupid. Always happy to be nice? What is wrong with me?
Xan stares off in the distance before he turns back to me. His gaze is intense, but not the “I’m about to fuck you with my sexy mind control powers” kind of intense. “You really are nice, Dylan,” he says.
My heart stops for a moment -- he is definitely being weird. Who could blame him, though? Someone tried to fucking kill him. Hey, that gives me an idea. People in movies like to have sex because they’re that happy to be alive, right? I wonder if Xan would be up for some “glad to be alive” sex.
My cheeks burn. Usually, I’m not this self-conscious about the whole “let’s have sex” deal, but...it might be weird to say “hey, you were almost assassinated, wanna do it?”
“Um, Xan?” I mutter. “When we’re, like, done with the waffles, do you wanna, y’know, do it? I mean, you invited me out in the first place for that, right? And it would be...life-affirming, because we survived all those fucking bullets?” Smooth, self. Real smooth.
Mentioning the bullets reminds me of something -- have his bodyguards ever been watching us have sex? I wouldn’t actually mind being part of some voyeurism-type stuff, but only if the people told me they wanted to watch first.
“If you’re up for it, I am,” Xan says. His eyes widen, but they sparkle, as if he likes the idea.
“Oh, one other thing,” I say, looking away from him. “Your, uh, magic invisible bodyguards...they haven’t watched us do it, have they?”
Xan shakes his head. “Oh no, they’ve nevered watch. My people don’t do anything like voyeurism without getting consent first.”
I sigh in relief. “Good to know,” I say.
He smirks, and his eyes sparkle some more. “I’ll be sure to eat the rest of my waffles quickly. Most of the cleanup can wait until later, I think.” His meaning is super obvious.
My face splits into a huge fucking grin because my sexy alien friend with benefits still wants me and doesn’t find assassination attempts to be a total mood-killer.
I can tell we’re going to have fun when we’re done with our food.