LoM Fic
Same one posted to martianholiday on Saturday, but now on my own lj for posterity.
Am excessively pleased with the response this fic received.
Title: Dinner Music
Rating: PG-13 (for sexual dialogue)
Word Count: 700
Notes: The request was for some Sam/Gene with "domestic cooking fluff" with the line: "I am the Emeril of 1973. BAM!"
Special thanks to jenavira, whom I knew I could rely on when I needed a wanky recipe of the like Sam Tyler would make.
Summary: Sam gets his groove on while cooking dinner.
Dinner Music
Gene didn't like that Sam wanted to cook dinner for him. It was too much like a date.
"And we're not dating, you poof, we're shagging."
But every once in a while Gene allowed Sam the indulgence, given how many of Gene's indulgences Sam was obliging to.
"It's free food, then sex. What's better than that?"
Gene made a lascivious remark about combining the free food and sex, instead of following a specific chronological order.
Gene wasn't the sort to appreciate Sam's more refined gastronomic tastes. His idea of a nice meal was something easily dumped from a tin. But still, Sam loved cooking, even more so for others, especially others of the significant variety.
Sam also liked having music on as he worked in the kitchen. He hummed absentmindedly along with "Long Cool Woman (in a Black Dress)" as he chopped garlic.
The song ended. The slow steady drum beats of the beginning to "Dance with the Devil" started. Sam kept an eye on the simmering vegetables, but his fingers clenched around the wooden spoon he was holding as the drummer increased his speed incrementally. Just before the song entered its first percussion verse, Sam grabbed the spatula.
Sam drummed along with Cozy Powell, though not very well, using the edges of his pans and the counter in lieu of real drums. He was really getting in to it as the guitar riffs entered the scene. He mimicked the electric guitar through his teeth, trying to keep the rhythm going with his utensils.
But he lost it completely when the vocalizations kicked in. Besides, the noodles needed draining. So he just hummed along with the chorus for its duration. He couldn't pick up his drumming again when the song's beats returned to full force. He was using the spoon now to stir in garlic, lemon zest, and anchovy paste to his caramelized onions, and it would only make a mess. But his body still thrummed with the energy of the music. He grabbed his minced garlic. "I am the Emeril of 1973! BAM!" He shouted as he tossed the garlic into the pan.
The music ending abprubtly made Sam turn around. To his dismay he saw Gene standing by the radio, frowning at it. "They call that music, " he sniffed derisively.
"I didn't hear you come in."
"Obviously. Kept the hinges on the door this time."
"Thanks."
Gene stepped into the small kitchen area, crowding Sam from behind. "What is it?"
"Gemelli with caramelized onions and herbs."
Gene just stared at the back of Sam's head. "Of course it is."
Sam reached for the bottle wine sitting on the counter. "Ah, now that's what I'm talking about," Gene said, looking for glasses. To his shock and horror Sam just poured it in to his pan. "What are you doing?"
"I have to deglaze the pan."
"Deglaze? Sounds like something you do to a donut, that does not involve wasting good alcohol."
"It's almost done. Stop complaining and get the bowls off the radiator."
Gene didn't move. "Why are they on the radiator?"
Sam sighed. "Because they needed to be warmed for serving, and I have no place else to do that."
"You have to even make something as simple as eating complicated, don't you?"
Gene grabbed the bowls and held them out for Sam to dish the pasta and veggies in to. He set them down on the little table, then sat down himself, picking up a fork.
"Wait!"
Gene slammed the fork back down. "What?"
"I have to garnish it first."
"I am not eating anything that has been garnished."
Sam sat down across from him with two extra tiny bowls. Sam sprinkled shredded cheese and herbs on his pasta. Finally satisfied with his presentation he was ready to eat. He looked up at Gene. Gene had some pasta on his fork, and he was sniffing it tentatively. He was worse than a child.
"Come on Gene, if you finish everything in your bowl, I promise you'll get whipped cream with your dessert." He gave him his dirtiest smile.
Gene looked up at Sam, eyebrows raised. "You mean it?"
Sam smiled and nodded.
Gene ate it all.
Hear Cozy Powell's "Dance with the Devil"
The Recipe for Gemelli with Caramelized Onions and Herbs
Am excessively pleased with the response this fic received.
Title: Dinner Music
Rating: PG-13 (for sexual dialogue)
Word Count: 700
Notes: The request was for some Sam/Gene with "domestic cooking fluff" with the line: "I am the Emeril of 1973. BAM!"
Special thanks to jenavira, whom I knew I could rely on when I needed a wanky recipe of the like Sam Tyler would make.
Summary: Sam gets his groove on while cooking dinner.
Dinner Music
Gene didn't like that Sam wanted to cook dinner for him. It was too much like a date.
"And we're not dating, you poof, we're shagging."
But every once in a while Gene allowed Sam the indulgence, given how many of Gene's indulgences Sam was obliging to.
"It's free food, then sex. What's better than that?"
Gene made a lascivious remark about combining the free food and sex, instead of following a specific chronological order.
Gene wasn't the sort to appreciate Sam's more refined gastronomic tastes. His idea of a nice meal was something easily dumped from a tin. But still, Sam loved cooking, even more so for others, especially others of the significant variety.
Sam also liked having music on as he worked in the kitchen. He hummed absentmindedly along with "Long Cool Woman (in a Black Dress)" as he chopped garlic.
The song ended. The slow steady drum beats of the beginning to "Dance with the Devil" started. Sam kept an eye on the simmering vegetables, but his fingers clenched around the wooden spoon he was holding as the drummer increased his speed incrementally. Just before the song entered its first percussion verse, Sam grabbed the spatula.
Sam drummed along with Cozy Powell, though not very well, using the edges of his pans and the counter in lieu of real drums. He was really getting in to it as the guitar riffs entered the scene. He mimicked the electric guitar through his teeth, trying to keep the rhythm going with his utensils.
But he lost it completely when the vocalizations kicked in. Besides, the noodles needed draining. So he just hummed along with the chorus for its duration. He couldn't pick up his drumming again when the song's beats returned to full force. He was using the spoon now to stir in garlic, lemon zest, and anchovy paste to his caramelized onions, and it would only make a mess. But his body still thrummed with the energy of the music. He grabbed his minced garlic. "I am the Emeril of 1973! BAM!" He shouted as he tossed the garlic into the pan.
The music ending abprubtly made Sam turn around. To his dismay he saw Gene standing by the radio, frowning at it. "They call that music, " he sniffed derisively.
"I didn't hear you come in."
"Obviously. Kept the hinges on the door this time."
"Thanks."
Gene stepped into the small kitchen area, crowding Sam from behind. "What is it?"
"Gemelli with caramelized onions and herbs."
Gene just stared at the back of Sam's head. "Of course it is."
Sam reached for the bottle wine sitting on the counter. "Ah, now that's what I'm talking about," Gene said, looking for glasses. To his shock and horror Sam just poured it in to his pan. "What are you doing?"
"I have to deglaze the pan."
"Deglaze? Sounds like something you do to a donut, that does not involve wasting good alcohol."
"It's almost done. Stop complaining and get the bowls off the radiator."
Gene didn't move. "Why are they on the radiator?"
Sam sighed. "Because they needed to be warmed for serving, and I have no place else to do that."
"You have to even make something as simple as eating complicated, don't you?"
Gene grabbed the bowls and held them out for Sam to dish the pasta and veggies in to. He set them down on the little table, then sat down himself, picking up a fork.
"Wait!"
Gene slammed the fork back down. "What?"
"I have to garnish it first."
"I am not eating anything that has been garnished."
Sam sat down across from him with two extra tiny bowls. Sam sprinkled shredded cheese and herbs on his pasta. Finally satisfied with his presentation he was ready to eat. He looked up at Gene. Gene had some pasta on his fork, and he was sniffing it tentatively. He was worse than a child.
"Come on Gene, if you finish everything in your bowl, I promise you'll get whipped cream with your dessert." He gave him his dirtiest smile.
Gene looked up at Sam, eyebrows raised. "You mean it?"
Sam smiled and nodded.
Gene ate it all.
Hear Cozy Powell's "Dance with the Devil"
The Recipe for Gemelli with Caramelized Onions and Herbs