Feathers of White
Title: Feathers of White
Rating: PG
Prompt: Substance Addiction
Word Count: 1312
Warnings: None
Summary: Some people drink to much. Other people do drugs. When it comes to a drug of choice, Ignacia's is food. Now that she's no longer having to stick to the strict diet of an elite gymnast, her palette is finding new foods to enjoy. Deaf!Dean Verse
The first taste alone made the trip worth it. The rich buttery taste of puff pastry, beef gravy and good meat exploded in Ignacia's mouth like Heaven. After spending years on end with a regimen of very healthy, lean and occasionally bland food, the meat pie she was currently eating in Sydney with her fellow gymnasts was incredible. She'd earned this indulgence - this fattening piece of delight that she would eat in a matter of seconds if it wasn't so hot. Romania had a team gold medal - they had all three all around medals and looked to snatch up at least half of the individual event medals. This was a treat that was well earned, well deserved and why the other girls wanted cake Ignacia couldn't understand.
They were in Australia for crying out loud. You couldn't get meat pies like this in Romania. Even if you could, they sure as Hell weren't in Deva and they wouldn't be this good.
She picked up her napkin, holding it against her chin as she took another bite of the savory treat. Sinking back into her seat a little, she gave a half smile to her teammate, Gina, who was eating a salad. A salad - as if they didn't eat those daily at home. The other girls wanted to have their treat for dessert. This pie alone was worth not having dessert. She set down the meat pie, unconsciously licking a spot of gravy off of her pinky finger.
“Good?” Gina asked, grinning as she stabbed a cherry tomato with her fork.
“More than that.” She picked up her own fork and took a small bite of her own smaller salad. “Need to let it cool off a bit.”
Her teammate chuckled. “Still can't believe you turned down cheesecake in favor of that thing.” She shook her head. “Then again.. it does smell good.”
“It is good.” She took a drink of water and then went back to eating. This was her last Olympics, she knew that. She'd be twenty-three when the Games were held in Athens. She was rather old at nineteen for the Games this year. So, after event finals she had nothing to do but enjoy the spirit and fun of being here in Sydney.
Her one regret was that the American she hoped to see - Dean Coulter - wasn't here. Clearly, the US Olympic Committee had been out of their minds to leave him behind. She'd heard men's coaches talk about consistency when it came to Coulter. She'd also heard that while the US men got the chalk and sweat beaten out of them, Coulter had been in California and his school team had done the same to three major universities - and he'd been the highest ranked gymnast there.
As the coaches had said - they couldn't believe the US would leave their medal lock at home.
Ignacia closed her eyes and took another bite of her meat pie. It was the sort of taste she'd never forget.
*
As far as addictions go, food wasn't that bad in Ignacia's mind. It wasn't like she was constantly eating - but the notion of being on her way out of competing and into the world of coaching gave her a new thing to explore. She also burned off almost everything she ate. Well, until recently. The broken wrist that ended her career had sent her home from Deva before her time. She had figured she at least had one last World Championship in her.
Her mom's cooking was strange to her. While it was the same traditional food she'd eaten at Deva, it had its own flair and flavor. If she had to pick a favorite dish, it was the stuffed eggplant.
Eggplant had always been her favorite vegetable.
*
California was a food lover's paradise in Ignacia's mind. Perhaps it was just the variety of eating. Her roommates introduced her to Chinatown, but after a life time of eating cabbage one way, the Asian way almost seemed sacrilegious to her. Although she did love egg rolls. Then there was the fish and other seafood - it too, was in its own league. It seemed wholly unfair to compare the food of the Pacific to the food of the Black Sea.
*
“Come over for dinner.”
It was such a simple request in Ignacia's mind, but after Dean Coulter had asked her, she'd been so stunned that she'd not even asked what they were having. Not that it mattered. Surly they were going to order something, or heat something up. Her roommates told her that most men didn't cook. At least, not the men who liked girls. Or something like that. Knowing that only a very rude person gets invited to dinner and just brings their appetite, Ignacia paid a visit to her favorite deli and picked up some of the best cheese in the city, if not the state.
Goat cheese and bread.
Dean shared an apartment with his brother - who had a different last name. She didn't like Sam very much. He seemed to have issues with stupid little things - and if he called her a hobbit again, she might just punch him. She wasn't that short. She might be the height of a Tolkien Dwarf - she was too tall to be a hobbit. Sam was, in her mind, the sort of boy her parents had told her to avoid. She shifted her hold on the bag she was carrying, hoping that Sam might have made himself scarce.
A rich, wonderful smell was wafting out from somewhere as she came up the steps to Dean's apartment and rang the bell. Through the glass, she could see a light flash - letting Dean know someone was at the door. She double checked her bag - yes, she'd remembered to bring her book on American Sign Language too. The door opened and Dean stood there, grinning. He was wearing an apron. “Hello, Ignacia.”
Her name always came out a little haltingly - she knew he was making sure he pronounced each syllable. “Hello.” She returned the smile as he let her in. The smell was stronger in the apartment - it sort of smelled like eggplant, but not quite. “I brought some bread and cheese. I hope that's all right.”
“That's great.” He gestured to the table. “If you want to set it up, feel free.”
Ignacia noted that there were only two places set at the table as she put the bag down and got out the food. She pulled out the book on ASL and set it at one of the places before leaning against the kitchen door frame. “Sam's not eating?”
Dean looked up from the pan. “I'm sorry, did you say something?”
She managed a smile. She'd forgotten he was deaf - again. “I asked if Sam was here.”
“No, he's off with Brady.” He made a face. “I suspect they're getting drunk.”
“That smells good.” She nodded towards the stove. “I didn't know you cooked.”
Dean went slightly pink. “I don't talk about it that much.” He stirred whatever was in the pot and then set the spoon down and signed something to her.
“Wait...” She held up her hand, thinking. “I know that...” She repeated one of the gestures. “Eggplant.” She frowned, trying to remember what the second word was. “Cheesy eggplant?”
Dean grinned. “Close. It's eggplant Parmesan.” He signed and spoke at the same time. “Although cheesy eggplant does sound good.”
She smiled slightly. “Anything I can do to help?”
“I'm good, thanks.” Dean's smile strengthened and he turned his attention to the pot of sauce. In reply, Ignacia went across the room to slice the bread and cheese.
Food was a pretty good addiction to have.
Rating: PG
Prompt: Substance Addiction
Word Count: 1312
Warnings: None
Summary: Some people drink to much. Other people do drugs. When it comes to a drug of choice, Ignacia's is food. Now that she's no longer having to stick to the strict diet of an elite gymnast, her palette is finding new foods to enjoy. Deaf!Dean Verse
The first taste alone made the trip worth it. The rich buttery taste of puff pastry, beef gravy and good meat exploded in Ignacia's mouth like Heaven. After spending years on end with a regimen of very healthy, lean and occasionally bland food, the meat pie she was currently eating in Sydney with her fellow gymnasts was incredible. She'd earned this indulgence - this fattening piece of delight that she would eat in a matter of seconds if it wasn't so hot. Romania had a team gold medal - they had all three all around medals and looked to snatch up at least half of the individual event medals. This was a treat that was well earned, well deserved and why the other girls wanted cake Ignacia couldn't understand.
They were in Australia for crying out loud. You couldn't get meat pies like this in Romania. Even if you could, they sure as Hell weren't in Deva and they wouldn't be this good.
She picked up her napkin, holding it against her chin as she took another bite of the savory treat. Sinking back into her seat a little, she gave a half smile to her teammate, Gina, who was eating a salad. A salad - as if they didn't eat those daily at home. The other girls wanted to have their treat for dessert. This pie alone was worth not having dessert. She set down the meat pie, unconsciously licking a spot of gravy off of her pinky finger.
“Good?” Gina asked, grinning as she stabbed a cherry tomato with her fork.
“More than that.” She picked up her own fork and took a small bite of her own smaller salad. “Need to let it cool off a bit.”
Her teammate chuckled. “Still can't believe you turned down cheesecake in favor of that thing.” She shook her head. “Then again.. it does smell good.”
“It is good.” She took a drink of water and then went back to eating. This was her last Olympics, she knew that. She'd be twenty-three when the Games were held in Athens. She was rather old at nineteen for the Games this year. So, after event finals she had nothing to do but enjoy the spirit and fun of being here in Sydney.
Her one regret was that the American she hoped to see - Dean Coulter - wasn't here. Clearly, the US Olympic Committee had been out of their minds to leave him behind. She'd heard men's coaches talk about consistency when it came to Coulter. She'd also heard that while the US men got the chalk and sweat beaten out of them, Coulter had been in California and his school team had done the same to three major universities - and he'd been the highest ranked gymnast there.
As the coaches had said - they couldn't believe the US would leave their medal lock at home.
Ignacia closed her eyes and took another bite of her meat pie. It was the sort of taste she'd never forget.
*
As far as addictions go, food wasn't that bad in Ignacia's mind. It wasn't like she was constantly eating - but the notion of being on her way out of competing and into the world of coaching gave her a new thing to explore. She also burned off almost everything she ate. Well, until recently. The broken wrist that ended her career had sent her home from Deva before her time. She had figured she at least had one last World Championship in her.
Her mom's cooking was strange to her. While it was the same traditional food she'd eaten at Deva, it had its own flair and flavor. If she had to pick a favorite dish, it was the stuffed eggplant.
Eggplant had always been her favorite vegetable.
*
California was a food lover's paradise in Ignacia's mind. Perhaps it was just the variety of eating. Her roommates introduced her to Chinatown, but after a life time of eating cabbage one way, the Asian way almost seemed sacrilegious to her. Although she did love egg rolls. Then there was the fish and other seafood - it too, was in its own league. It seemed wholly unfair to compare the food of the Pacific to the food of the Black Sea.
*
“Come over for dinner.”
It was such a simple request in Ignacia's mind, but after Dean Coulter had asked her, she'd been so stunned that she'd not even asked what they were having. Not that it mattered. Surly they were going to order something, or heat something up. Her roommates told her that most men didn't cook. At least, not the men who liked girls. Or something like that. Knowing that only a very rude person gets invited to dinner and just brings their appetite, Ignacia paid a visit to her favorite deli and picked up some of the best cheese in the city, if not the state.
Goat cheese and bread.
Dean shared an apartment with his brother - who had a different last name. She didn't like Sam very much. He seemed to have issues with stupid little things - and if he called her a hobbit again, she might just punch him. She wasn't that short. She might be the height of a Tolkien Dwarf - she was too tall to be a hobbit. Sam was, in her mind, the sort of boy her parents had told her to avoid. She shifted her hold on the bag she was carrying, hoping that Sam might have made himself scarce.
A rich, wonderful smell was wafting out from somewhere as she came up the steps to Dean's apartment and rang the bell. Through the glass, she could see a light flash - letting Dean know someone was at the door. She double checked her bag - yes, she'd remembered to bring her book on American Sign Language too. The door opened and Dean stood there, grinning. He was wearing an apron. “Hello, Ignacia.”
Her name always came out a little haltingly - she knew he was making sure he pronounced each syllable. “Hello.” She returned the smile as he let her in. The smell was stronger in the apartment - it sort of smelled like eggplant, but not quite. “I brought some bread and cheese. I hope that's all right.”
“That's great.” He gestured to the table. “If you want to set it up, feel free.”
Ignacia noted that there were only two places set at the table as she put the bag down and got out the food. She pulled out the book on ASL and set it at one of the places before leaning against the kitchen door frame. “Sam's not eating?”
Dean looked up from the pan. “I'm sorry, did you say something?”
She managed a smile. She'd forgotten he was deaf - again. “I asked if Sam was here.”
“No, he's off with Brady.” He made a face. “I suspect they're getting drunk.”
“That smells good.” She nodded towards the stove. “I didn't know you cooked.”
Dean went slightly pink. “I don't talk about it that much.” He stirred whatever was in the pot and then set the spoon down and signed something to her.
“Wait...” She held up her hand, thinking. “I know that...” She repeated one of the gestures. “Eggplant.” She frowned, trying to remember what the second word was. “Cheesy eggplant?”
Dean grinned. “Close. It's eggplant Parmesan.” He signed and spoke at the same time. “Although cheesy eggplant does sound good.”
She smiled slightly. “Anything I can do to help?”
“I'm good, thanks.” Dean's smile strengthened and he turned his attention to the pot of sauce. In reply, Ignacia went across the room to slice the bread and cheese.
Food was a pretty good addiction to have.