1/2 cup sugar - Inception - PG-13
Title: 1/2 Cup Sugar
Author: anamuan
Fandom, Pairing: Inception, Arthur/Eames
Word Count: 1,005 words
Rating: PG-13
Note: Fluffy, baking time stamp for the warp and weft that hold life together, written for Fat Cock Vivant. Also, eternal gratitude to eternalsojourn for the awesome beta!
Arthur loves his job, loves how exciting it is, the tight deadlines and the rush of racing a clock to deliver a good product. But the inevitable downtime whenever they finish a big project and he goes from twelve hour days to no time in the office bores him out of his mind. Other people need the break, and he could use one too, not going to lie about it, but that's mostly for the sleep dep. It's ok in the summer, when literally everyone else in his house is home and there is more chaos than a 9 year old and a 6 year old should be able to make on their own, but winter is a different matter. Eames is at school, and Dom is at school, and of course the kids are both at school now too, so it's just mind-numbingly dull. Arthur misses being able to kidnap James from day care whenever he wants.
He needs something to fill up his free time desperately, so Arthur decides that the occasional cookie won't totally wreck young, growing bodies, and teaches himself to bake. It's kind of soothing, actually, in ways that aren't directly related to just needing to be doing something with his time. There's a precision to it you don't get in regular cooking. Arthur can appreciate that.
Dom has chauffeur duty tonight; picking up the kids directly after his office hours, taking James to a birthday party, and then Phillipa to an art lesson before staggering home. Normally Arthur would happily have usurped driving duty after a day kicking around the house, but today Arthur's going to try some baking, so he lets Dom be on his way.
Cookies aren’t hard to make, and easy to pack into lunches later, so that's what he starts with. Arthur makes six dozen cookies, half-chocolate chip, half-raisin oatmeal cookies, because everyone loves chocolate chips, but raisins are more nutritious. Of course, James and Phillipa will probably end up picking all the raisins out of the cookies anyway, so there isn't much point in trying except being able to say he did.
Arthur digs out the old stand mixer someone gave Dom and Mal for their wedding. He'd reorganized the kitchen and pantry when they'd gotten the addition put on the house, so he knows they still have it. Arthur doesn't think it's ever been used before--neither Mal nor Dom were the 'baking' type--and sure enough, the box has been opened, but everything inside is still wrapped up in the clear plastic bags they came in. Arthur takes everything out, and washes the bowls and the mixing arms, and reads the instructions just in case, but it turns out to all be fairly straightforward: plug in, attach desired mixing attachment, put the big bowl on the track and go.
First in go the butter and the sugars. Once they're creamed together, Arthur adds his other wet ingredients and turns the mixer on again. Arthur's just finished mixing in all the dry ingredients except the oats and the raisins and chocolate chips when Eames gets home.
"What have we here?" Eames asks, nudging up behind Arthur to peer over his shoulder. He wraps one arm around Arthur to scoop up a bit of the dough on his index finger, but the other hand settles at Arthur's waist. Eames sucks the cookie dough noisily off his finger right by Arthur's ear, smacking his lips until Arthur laughs and twists his head away.
"Oh, don't be like that, darling," Eames says, pressing a sticky kiss to the side of Arthur's face. "Here," Eames says, scooping another glob of cookie dough out of the mixing bowl and proffering it to Arthur. Arthur rolls his eyes, but licks the dough off Eames's fingers anyway, just for the way Eames will go very, very still against him as he does it, like he's concentrating and doesn't want to be distracted.
"Bit wet for biscuits, isn't it?" Eames says when Arthur's done, voice low and back in his ear.
Arthur ducks his head a little and drops a kiss on the pads of Eames's fingers. "They're going to be oatmeal cookies. It's what you get for interrupting me." He flicks his tongue out over them then just because he can.
"Oh, no, Arthur love, that's not an interruption. This," Eames grabs Arthur around the waist and starts dragging him out of the kitchen, "This is an interruption."
Arthur twists out of his grasp and dashes back to the counter. He scoops up a spatula and turns around to brandish it at Eames. "Sex after cookies!"
"Spoilsport. We've at least two hours before anyone else comes home."
"Sex after cookies, or there won't be any cookies. So, we can have sex, or we can have both. Now, which would you prefer?"
"You're a horrible tease," Eames says, but he goes around to the other edge of the counter and pulls a second apron off the hook there. He ties it around his hips, more like a waiter in a fancy restaurant than a cook.
"Maybe so, but I'm the horrible tease making you cookies," Arthurs says, turning the mixer back on and carefully pouring the oats into the dough a little at a time.
Eames doesn't really end up helping very much, but he does steal the first cookie off the cooling rack while the chocolate chips are still warm and gooey, and he is responsible for the smear of melted chocolate just behind Arthur's right ear. He's also responsible for the last dozen cookies burning, no matter how much he denies it.
"Only half responsible," Eames argues.
"You distracted me."
"You're very distractible."
"Definitely more than half responsible," Arthur scowls, but he ruins it by kissing Eames again anyway.
chocolate chip oatmeal cookie recipe here; I don't support putting raisins in cookies if you have any choice in the matter.
Author: anamuan
Fandom, Pairing: Inception, Arthur/Eames
Word Count: 1,005 words
Rating: PG-13
Note: Fluffy, baking time stamp for the warp and weft that hold life together, written for Fat Cock Vivant. Also, eternal gratitude to eternalsojourn for the awesome beta!
Arthur loves his job, loves how exciting it is, the tight deadlines and the rush of racing a clock to deliver a good product. But the inevitable downtime whenever they finish a big project and he goes from twelve hour days to no time in the office bores him out of his mind. Other people need the break, and he could use one too, not going to lie about it, but that's mostly for the sleep dep. It's ok in the summer, when literally everyone else in his house is home and there is more chaos than a 9 year old and a 6 year old should be able to make on their own, but winter is a different matter. Eames is at school, and Dom is at school, and of course the kids are both at school now too, so it's just mind-numbingly dull. Arthur misses being able to kidnap James from day care whenever he wants.
He needs something to fill up his free time desperately, so Arthur decides that the occasional cookie won't totally wreck young, growing bodies, and teaches himself to bake. It's kind of soothing, actually, in ways that aren't directly related to just needing to be doing something with his time. There's a precision to it you don't get in regular cooking. Arthur can appreciate that.
Dom has chauffeur duty tonight; picking up the kids directly after his office hours, taking James to a birthday party, and then Phillipa to an art lesson before staggering home. Normally Arthur would happily have usurped driving duty after a day kicking around the house, but today Arthur's going to try some baking, so he lets Dom be on his way.
Cookies aren’t hard to make, and easy to pack into lunches later, so that's what he starts with. Arthur makes six dozen cookies, half-chocolate chip, half-raisin oatmeal cookies, because everyone loves chocolate chips, but raisins are more nutritious. Of course, James and Phillipa will probably end up picking all the raisins out of the cookies anyway, so there isn't much point in trying except being able to say he did.
Arthur digs out the old stand mixer someone gave Dom and Mal for their wedding. He'd reorganized the kitchen and pantry when they'd gotten the addition put on the house, so he knows they still have it. Arthur doesn't think it's ever been used before--neither Mal nor Dom were the 'baking' type--and sure enough, the box has been opened, but everything inside is still wrapped up in the clear plastic bags they came in. Arthur takes everything out, and washes the bowls and the mixing arms, and reads the instructions just in case, but it turns out to all be fairly straightforward: plug in, attach desired mixing attachment, put the big bowl on the track and go.
First in go the butter and the sugars. Once they're creamed together, Arthur adds his other wet ingredients and turns the mixer on again. Arthur's just finished mixing in all the dry ingredients except the oats and the raisins and chocolate chips when Eames gets home.
"What have we here?" Eames asks, nudging up behind Arthur to peer over his shoulder. He wraps one arm around Arthur to scoop up a bit of the dough on his index finger, but the other hand settles at Arthur's waist. Eames sucks the cookie dough noisily off his finger right by Arthur's ear, smacking his lips until Arthur laughs and twists his head away.
"Oh, don't be like that, darling," Eames says, pressing a sticky kiss to the side of Arthur's face. "Here," Eames says, scooping another glob of cookie dough out of the mixing bowl and proffering it to Arthur. Arthur rolls his eyes, but licks the dough off Eames's fingers anyway, just for the way Eames will go very, very still against him as he does it, like he's concentrating and doesn't want to be distracted.
"Bit wet for biscuits, isn't it?" Eames says when Arthur's done, voice low and back in his ear.
Arthur ducks his head a little and drops a kiss on the pads of Eames's fingers. "They're going to be oatmeal cookies. It's what you get for interrupting me." He flicks his tongue out over them then just because he can.
"Oh, no, Arthur love, that's not an interruption. This," Eames grabs Arthur around the waist and starts dragging him out of the kitchen, "This is an interruption."
Arthur twists out of his grasp and dashes back to the counter. He scoops up a spatula and turns around to brandish it at Eames. "Sex after cookies!"
"Spoilsport. We've at least two hours before anyone else comes home."
"Sex after cookies, or there won't be any cookies. So, we can have sex, or we can have both. Now, which would you prefer?"
"You're a horrible tease," Eames says, but he goes around to the other edge of the counter and pulls a second apron off the hook there. He ties it around his hips, more like a waiter in a fancy restaurant than a cook.
"Maybe so, but I'm the horrible tease making you cookies," Arthurs says, turning the mixer back on and carefully pouring the oats into the dough a little at a time.
Eames doesn't really end up helping very much, but he does steal the first cookie off the cooling rack while the chocolate chips are still warm and gooey, and he is responsible for the smear of melted chocolate just behind Arthur's right ear. He's also responsible for the last dozen cookies burning, no matter how much he denies it.
"Only half responsible," Eames argues.
"You distracted me."
"You're very distractible."
"Definitely more than half responsible," Arthur scowls, but he ruins it by kissing Eames again anyway.
chocolate chip oatmeal cookie recipe here; I don't support putting raisins in cookies if you have any choice in the matter.