Rainbow Sherbet #1, Buttercream #3
Title: Breakfast With Harlu
Flavors: Rainbow Sherbet #1 (red), Buttercream #3 (eggs)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,689
Story: Two Little Devils
Summary: Harluthenax cooks breakfast, and Angela sizes him up
Author's Notes: Another short for Two Little Devils! :) I had to scramble around for prompts because I'm not sure which flavors to take up now. So, I decided to go back and write for a few flavors that I've used previously.
Disclaimer: The songs in this story are God Bless The Child by Billie Holiday, Only Forever by Bing Crosby, and Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy by The Andrews Sisters.
"Breakfast With Harlu"
The sizzling of eggs on an iron skillet sounded through the kitchen. The fresh scent of eggs, hash browns, bacon, and sausage filled Angela's nose as she sat there at the small, light wood table in the kitchen. Grama's house was quaint, and there was a lack of a dining room. Angela didn't mind the table being in the kitchen itself because she always found enjoyment as a child in watching her Grama cook. Apparently, this stretched out into Angela's older years and applied to more than just her great-grandmother. She often watched her dad cook back at home, usually on the weekends. There was a bar that wrapped around the kitchen of her house, and she'd sit there with her school books while her father cooked.
The sense of comfort wasn't there this morning here in the kitchen. Angela sat there at the table with her feet wrapped around the legs of her chair as she usually did, but her eyes closely watched the other person in the room. It wasn't her Grama or her father who was cooking. The man who had his back to her appeared to be in his early twenties. He would have been a few inches shorter than Angela at around 5'5” if she had been standing. Angel guessed that he must have taken a shower before she had woken up because his white-blond hair wasn't tousled from sleep but was clean and well kept instead. He wore a white, v-neck shirt with horizontal stripes running across it that were thick and light blue. There was a pale yellow apron from the 60s with large, pink flowers on it wrapped around his waist, covering up some of his cream-colored, linen pants.
This was Harluthenax, one of Grama's 'old friends'. By another term, he was a demon, which was more accurate in Angela's opinion. It was something that Angela couldn't push out of her head. There was a demon cooking breakfast in her great-grandmother's kitchen. He looked entirely human standing there, but Angela knew better than to let appearances deceive her again.
God Bless The Child by Billie Holiday played from the phonograph in the living room nearby, and Angela watched as Harlu swayed slightly to the music. Narration kept cycling through Angela's head on repeat. There was not only a demon cooking breakfast in her great-grandmother's kitchen who also happened to be wearing a flower printed apron, but he was humming along to Billie Holiday. This was definitely going in the record books as the strangest thing to happen to anyone. Angela couldn't think of anything more bizarre than this.
Angela watched Harlu move about the kitchen as he set the table. Plates of hash browns, sausage, bacon, and eggs both scrambled and sunny side up were placed in the middle. There were also bagels and muffins along with cartons of orange juice and milk. He stood back with his hands on his hips as he admired his handiwork. He grinned cheerily and announced, “Breakfast is served.”
Angela didn't fix her plate right away. She eyed everything guardedly, even though everything smelled and looked delicious. Her stomach rumbled in disagreement at her hesitance while Harlu sat across from her and began to scoop things off of the plates. Harlu raised an eyebrow at her, and a smirk tugged up the corner of his mouth. He badgered, “I didn't have time to cook muffins from scratch if that's what you were holding out for, your highness.”
Angela flashed him an unimpressed look but reached for the food. “So, is there a culinary school for demons or...?”
“Odette taught me a lot,” Harluthenax informed. “She gave me some recipe books, but I haven't been able to practice much.”
“There aren't ovens in Hell?” Angela scoffed.
A grin stretched across Harlu's face, unaffected by Angela's unfriendliness. He answered cheekily, “Hell is an oven, kitten.”
Harluthenax left briefly to switch the records in the living room while Angela got her plate of food together. A forties song that Angela didn't recognize began to play, but she didn't bother to ask when Harluthenax returned. The two of them sat there engaged in a one-sided conversation as Harlu began to rattle off about different things. He talked about cooking and some recipes he wanted to try out now that he was here. The song playing was apparently Only Forever by Bing Crosby. Harlu mentioned that and told Angela how he had gotten the earlier Billie Holiday record for Odette the last time him and Azire were here.
Angela found herself smiling at Harlu's enthusiasm. She eventually commented about how dad could make a linguine that was heavy on the herbs, tomatoes, and olive oil when she figured it would peek Harluthenax's interests. She scolded herself for the contribution but didn't bother trying to stop herself from being a part of the conversation now. She had gotten roped in and was just going to let it be. Trying not to talk to Harluthenax when he was talking to you was like trying not to grab a cookie fresh from the oven; it was inevitable.
When Harluthenax turned his head at one point to glance off in the direction of the hallway, his pupils flared neon red like the red-eye effect of a camera. Angela choked on her orange juice and doubled over into a coughing fit. Harlu's eyes widened as he snapped his attention back to her. His voice was gentle when he joked, “There's plenty of juice here. No need for any of that.”
A napkin was offered up to her when she was catching her breath. Angela's green eyes slowly dragged up from it to meet Harluthenax's gaze. His pupils had gone back to being black, and they remained normal as she eyed them. Cautiously, she accepted the napkin and wiped herself clean. She kept her head down as she did so, and her mouth twitched while she mused. She wondered, “Is that how your eyes normally look?”
“Hm?”
“They were red,” she commented. “Er, sorta.”
Understanding flickered over Harluthenax's face. He frowned, his head tilting slightly. He was quiet for a moment before asking sincerely, “Do you want to see my eyes?”
Angela didn't answer right away. Honestly, they creeped her out a lot. She only caught glimpses of them every so often, and they always made her think of what a glitch might look like in real life. It was as if the world had malfunctioned for a second, and Angela wasn't supposed to see it. Despite this, Angela straightened in her chair. She didn't want to seem timid. This was a demon she wad dealing with. Weren't demons supposed to be manipulative? What if he held this over her at some point, finding some kind of weakness to use against her? Her gaze challenged the man when she dared, “Yes.”
The corner of Harluthenax's lips twitched upward for a second, and Angela took it as a win that she had made the right call. The two of them kept eye contact as Harlu leaned forward over the table. After looking at them so closely, Angela realized how blue Harlu's eyes were. They weren't faded and swirled with gray but were vibrant like the summer sky and polished like glass. She had gotten entranced, so she flinched whenever light suddenly flashed over them. It was fast like electricity sparking over his entire eyes before the pupils flared a startling red that was almost a digital magenta in color.
The longer Angela stared at Harluthenax's unblinking eyes, the more she felt her breakfast beginning to unsettle in her stomach. She couldn't stop feeling like an open book and how he was skimming through the pages. It felt like dozens of ants were crawling over her skin, and she was starting to feel clammy. She turned her head away, unable to stare back at him for more than a minute. While she tried to ground herself and stop feeling nauseous, Harlu laughed and slumped back in his chair.
“I'm impressed,” he congratulated. “Your Grama screamed when I looked at her.”
That thought surprised Angela. It never occurred to her how her great-grandmother had reacted to seeing their eyes for the first time. “She did?”
“At the top of her lungs, she did,” Harluthenax remembered. “She was louder than the kettle whistle.”
Angela couldn't stop the smile on her face as she tried to imagine Harlu's memory. It seemed very much like Grama to do such a thing. Harlu's expression became almost somber when he added offhandedly, “Azire had to calm everything down.”
Angela didn't take much notice of the brief change, but the smile on her face lessened a little when she wondered something else. “Are your eyes the only thing that's different?”
There was a pause. A smirk slowly stretched across Harluthenax's lips as something akin to mischief twinkled in his eyes. The record player caught both of their attentions though. If Harlu had meant to answer, he didn't get the chance to. Odette strolled into the kitchen with a warm smile dimpling her cheeks. She snapped her fingers along to the music playing and sang, “He was a famous trumpet man from out Chicago way. He had a boogie style that no one else could play.”
Harluthenax bellowed with laughter, and they sang the chorus of the song together, “He's the boogie woogie bugle boy of Company B!”
Angela watched them interact. Everything was so natural between them, even though it had been years since they'd seen each other. She remembered what Harlu had said about Grama's reaction and wondered how Grama had went from that to this. She had told Angela that Harlu and Azire were her greatest friends. Angela remembered a few odd stories from Grama growing up about two old friends she had that Angela had never met. Angela's parents always brushed it off and told her that Grama liked to make up stories. After seeing Harluthenax and Azire for herself, Angela guessed that these were the friends and that those stories weren't made up at all.
Flavors: Rainbow Sherbet #1 (red), Buttercream #3 (eggs)
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,689
Story: Two Little Devils
Summary: Harluthenax cooks breakfast, and Angela sizes him up
Author's Notes: Another short for Two Little Devils! :) I had to scramble around for prompts because I'm not sure which flavors to take up now. So, I decided to go back and write for a few flavors that I've used previously.
Disclaimer: The songs in this story are God Bless The Child by Billie Holiday, Only Forever by Bing Crosby, and Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy by The Andrews Sisters.
"Breakfast With Harlu"
The sizzling of eggs on an iron skillet sounded through the kitchen. The fresh scent of eggs, hash browns, bacon, and sausage filled Angela's nose as she sat there at the small, light wood table in the kitchen. Grama's house was quaint, and there was a lack of a dining room. Angela didn't mind the table being in the kitchen itself because she always found enjoyment as a child in watching her Grama cook. Apparently, this stretched out into Angela's older years and applied to more than just her great-grandmother. She often watched her dad cook back at home, usually on the weekends. There was a bar that wrapped around the kitchen of her house, and she'd sit there with her school books while her father cooked.
The sense of comfort wasn't there this morning here in the kitchen. Angela sat there at the table with her feet wrapped around the legs of her chair as she usually did, but her eyes closely watched the other person in the room. It wasn't her Grama or her father who was cooking. The man who had his back to her appeared to be in his early twenties. He would have been a few inches shorter than Angela at around 5'5” if she had been standing. Angel guessed that he must have taken a shower before she had woken up because his white-blond hair wasn't tousled from sleep but was clean and well kept instead. He wore a white, v-neck shirt with horizontal stripes running across it that were thick and light blue. There was a pale yellow apron from the 60s with large, pink flowers on it wrapped around his waist, covering up some of his cream-colored, linen pants.
This was Harluthenax, one of Grama's 'old friends'. By another term, he was a demon, which was more accurate in Angela's opinion. It was something that Angela couldn't push out of her head. There was a demon cooking breakfast in her great-grandmother's kitchen. He looked entirely human standing there, but Angela knew better than to let appearances deceive her again.
God Bless The Child by Billie Holiday played from the phonograph in the living room nearby, and Angela watched as Harlu swayed slightly to the music. Narration kept cycling through Angela's head on repeat. There was not only a demon cooking breakfast in her great-grandmother's kitchen who also happened to be wearing a flower printed apron, but he was humming along to Billie Holiday. This was definitely going in the record books as the strangest thing to happen to anyone. Angela couldn't think of anything more bizarre than this.
Angela watched Harlu move about the kitchen as he set the table. Plates of hash browns, sausage, bacon, and eggs both scrambled and sunny side up were placed in the middle. There were also bagels and muffins along with cartons of orange juice and milk. He stood back with his hands on his hips as he admired his handiwork. He grinned cheerily and announced, “Breakfast is served.”
Angela didn't fix her plate right away. She eyed everything guardedly, even though everything smelled and looked delicious. Her stomach rumbled in disagreement at her hesitance while Harlu sat across from her and began to scoop things off of the plates. Harlu raised an eyebrow at her, and a smirk tugged up the corner of his mouth. He badgered, “I didn't have time to cook muffins from scratch if that's what you were holding out for, your highness.”
Angela flashed him an unimpressed look but reached for the food. “So, is there a culinary school for demons or...?”
“Odette taught me a lot,” Harluthenax informed. “She gave me some recipe books, but I haven't been able to practice much.”
“There aren't ovens in Hell?” Angela scoffed.
A grin stretched across Harlu's face, unaffected by Angela's unfriendliness. He answered cheekily, “Hell is an oven, kitten.”
Harluthenax left briefly to switch the records in the living room while Angela got her plate of food together. A forties song that Angela didn't recognize began to play, but she didn't bother to ask when Harluthenax returned. The two of them sat there engaged in a one-sided conversation as Harlu began to rattle off about different things. He talked about cooking and some recipes he wanted to try out now that he was here. The song playing was apparently Only Forever by Bing Crosby. Harlu mentioned that and told Angela how he had gotten the earlier Billie Holiday record for Odette the last time him and Azire were here.
Angela found herself smiling at Harlu's enthusiasm. She eventually commented about how dad could make a linguine that was heavy on the herbs, tomatoes, and olive oil when she figured it would peek Harluthenax's interests. She scolded herself for the contribution but didn't bother trying to stop herself from being a part of the conversation now. She had gotten roped in and was just going to let it be. Trying not to talk to Harluthenax when he was talking to you was like trying not to grab a cookie fresh from the oven; it was inevitable.
When Harluthenax turned his head at one point to glance off in the direction of the hallway, his pupils flared neon red like the red-eye effect of a camera. Angela choked on her orange juice and doubled over into a coughing fit. Harlu's eyes widened as he snapped his attention back to her. His voice was gentle when he joked, “There's plenty of juice here. No need for any of that.”
A napkin was offered up to her when she was catching her breath. Angela's green eyes slowly dragged up from it to meet Harluthenax's gaze. His pupils had gone back to being black, and they remained normal as she eyed them. Cautiously, she accepted the napkin and wiped herself clean. She kept her head down as she did so, and her mouth twitched while she mused. She wondered, “Is that how your eyes normally look?”
“Hm?”
“They were red,” she commented. “Er, sorta.”
Understanding flickered over Harluthenax's face. He frowned, his head tilting slightly. He was quiet for a moment before asking sincerely, “Do you want to see my eyes?”
Angela didn't answer right away. Honestly, they creeped her out a lot. She only caught glimpses of them every so often, and they always made her think of what a glitch might look like in real life. It was as if the world had malfunctioned for a second, and Angela wasn't supposed to see it. Despite this, Angela straightened in her chair. She didn't want to seem timid. This was a demon she wad dealing with. Weren't demons supposed to be manipulative? What if he held this over her at some point, finding some kind of weakness to use against her? Her gaze challenged the man when she dared, “Yes.”
The corner of Harluthenax's lips twitched upward for a second, and Angela took it as a win that she had made the right call. The two of them kept eye contact as Harlu leaned forward over the table. After looking at them so closely, Angela realized how blue Harlu's eyes were. They weren't faded and swirled with gray but were vibrant like the summer sky and polished like glass. She had gotten entranced, so she flinched whenever light suddenly flashed over them. It was fast like electricity sparking over his entire eyes before the pupils flared a startling red that was almost a digital magenta in color.
The longer Angela stared at Harluthenax's unblinking eyes, the more she felt her breakfast beginning to unsettle in her stomach. She couldn't stop feeling like an open book and how he was skimming through the pages. It felt like dozens of ants were crawling over her skin, and she was starting to feel clammy. She turned her head away, unable to stare back at him for more than a minute. While she tried to ground herself and stop feeling nauseous, Harlu laughed and slumped back in his chair.
“I'm impressed,” he congratulated. “Your Grama screamed when I looked at her.”
That thought surprised Angela. It never occurred to her how her great-grandmother had reacted to seeing their eyes for the first time. “She did?”
“At the top of her lungs, she did,” Harluthenax remembered. “She was louder than the kettle whistle.”
Angela couldn't stop the smile on her face as she tried to imagine Harlu's memory. It seemed very much like Grama to do such a thing. Harlu's expression became almost somber when he added offhandedly, “Azire had to calm everything down.”
Angela didn't take much notice of the brief change, but the smile on her face lessened a little when she wondered something else. “Are your eyes the only thing that's different?”
There was a pause. A smirk slowly stretched across Harluthenax's lips as something akin to mischief twinkled in his eyes. The record player caught both of their attentions though. If Harlu had meant to answer, he didn't get the chance to. Odette strolled into the kitchen with a warm smile dimpling her cheeks. She snapped her fingers along to the music playing and sang, “He was a famous trumpet man from out Chicago way. He had a boogie style that no one else could play.”
Harluthenax bellowed with laughter, and they sang the chorus of the song together, “He's the boogie woogie bugle boy of Company B!”
Angela watched them interact. Everything was so natural between them, even though it had been years since they'd seen each other. She remembered what Harlu had said about Grama's reaction and wondered how Grama had went from that to this. She had told Angela that Harlu and Azire were her greatest friends. Angela remembered a few odd stories from Grama growing up about two old friends she had that Angela had never met. Angela's parents always brushed it off and told her that Grama liked to make up stories. After seeing Harluthenax and Azire for herself, Angela guessed that these were the friends and that those stories weren't made up at all.