callmeemily | you teach me squid i teach you bread (jason)

Entry tags:

jason,
the bakery

you teach me squid i teach you bread (jason)

Things she probably should have thought about: the fact that they hadn't discussed what they were cooking, the fact that she probably wasn't even allowed to use this kitchen, the fact that she'd sort of... not <i>avoided</i> him, but she'd missed him the last couple of days and she didn't know if that was because she left the dog too early or what and she didn't actually have a way to see if he really wasn't busy, and...

Mostly, Raleigh's worrying because she can. Because there's not a lot else to do besides make sure she looks decent (she does; she even put on makeup (gasp)) and that she's not looking creepy. The bag of simple groceries is already inside because she decided that she could teach him how to make beer bread and honey orange butter and she'd make some of the best scrambled eggs ever, and that would be a plan. It would be a dinner, even. Of course, this meant that it wasn't a date. It was a <i>lesson</i>.

Totally different. Completely different.

Maybe.

For all she knew? He was married. Or gay. Or gay AND married. They hadn't really talked about it, and she didn't really know if she wanted to talk about it, and that's why she's got flour, butter, sugar, a pack of cheap beer, eggs, honey, creme fraiche, and chives. Because she's going to teach him how to cook, and then that's that.

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He sees the way she reacts to him using her name, her real name, and he's pretty sure he'll use it again. Jason doesn't know her story, but names are meaningful. So he'll use her name anytime he can, keeping to Emily with other people around, of course.

Oven. He knows how those work. "Got it." He flips the oven to the the setting she mentions as she rattles off the bread's ingredients. It certainly sounds easy enough. He weighs the flour, paying close attention to getting it right and shrugs. "Before here? A drifter. I've spent the past, I dunno, five years floating from state to state. Before that? I was in Alaska, working boats and fighting. Not like...for fun. For money."

She doesn't comment on it, but she needs it; she needs it, because when you're not a person for that long... it starts to chip away at what makes you, you. Raleigh doesn't know who Emily Watkins is, but she wonders sometimes if she's more her than she is herself, now.

"Add half a cup of sugar," she says nodding to the bag - all of the ingredients are going straight into the loaf pan that she greased after explaining what she was doing. "And then a full can of beer, then mix it with a fork."

She thinks about what he said for just a minute. "Was it good money?" It's a weird sort of question, maybe, but she's genuinely curious. "And did you get hurt?" More than just bruises, anyway.

He follows directions well. When work was hard to come by, you make sure of that. Contractors and captains are always more willing to keep someone around who follows directions without an attitude. Jason adds the sugar and beer, mixing everything as he's instructed.

"Pretty good, yeah. Better than most blue collar jobs I had." He nods, but doesn't look at her. He went to bed sometimes a bloody mess, only concerned if he can get up and do it all again the next day. "A lot. But it was worth it to me. I was young, needed money, and more than a little angry at the world so," he shrugs, "it was worth it."

She nods. "I get it." She takes a peek at the bread, and sprinkles in some tiny butter cubes, then nods to the oven. "That's it, it goes in for about an hour, and then we have bread." Seriously, it'd turn itself into bread. Like magic.

"You do what you need to do. Both... for money, but like. If it worked for you?" She's not judging. She can't, considering the jobs she'd worked trying to help out her mom. "More power to you, you know?" She gets, too, the being angry at the world thing.

She gets it, and honestly, she's felt it here more than anywhere; it sucked when her dad left, it was worse in the cellar - she'd thought nothing worse in her life could ever happen, but this... this being here, being trapped here... she was pretty mad at the world, but there was nothing she could do. "Why'd you leave? Alaska, I mean." She paused. "And.... you know you can just not answer whenever. Or- or I mean, you can just... ask me whatever, too."

She dumps the butter into a bowl, and grabs a grater, handing him that and an orange. "Just grate the orange peel - I know it's weird, but when you get to the inside part, stop and grate a different part, okay? And be careful not to grate your fingers."

She's cracking the eggs into a bowl without even thinking, the motions smooth and simple - and she's planning on making a lot of them, because considering what he does for a living, she knows he can probably eat a lot.

"That's kind of the attitude I've kept. As long as you're comfortable and feel safe, take whatever job you need to keep yourself going." He places the bread into the oven and closes it, wiping off his hands with a cloth and looking at Raleigh as he sets to work on the orange peel. He feels comfortable talking about his past. Especially since she obviously won't judge him for any of it.

"I'm definitely willing to talk about myself, just people typically never ask a drifter questions." He twists the orange, peeling a new spot. "The fighting got me in trouble. It was illegal and I fought for an underground betting ring. Cops found out, raided the place, I ran. Haven't stepped foot in Alaska since."

"Shit," she says softly, her brows furrowing together. "That... blows. I mean, obviously, but..... shit." She shook her head. "Did you fight anywhere else? Or was it just keeping a roof over your head and yourself fed?" She gets that, too.

She puts most of the butter into a bowl where she starts to cream it with a fork while he zests the orange, looking over at him. "You know I don't just think of you as a drifter, right? That you're way more than just that?" It's important for her to say so, because she's in that same vein; she hit rock bottom when she realised that she was nothing as a person, just that she could bake. That's when she got out of her bubble and started reaching out.

"You're a good person." She says it with absolute conviction, and she measures a tablespoon of honey to put into the butter, using her fork to combine the two, then when he's done zesting she hands him the bowl and the fork. "Keep mixing it together - use the fork to smoosh the butter against the bowl, and I'll chop this a little smaller, then we'll add it to the butter, too."

"Before that I boxed. Kinda why I was good at winning. But yeah, I was good at it and it put a roof over my head so ta-da." He smiles. "I haven't fought since, but Eli did tell me there's a gym here and I can probably get back into boxing if I want."

He stares at her for a moment. She doesn't think of him as just some drifter, a face with no name and a sad story, a face that'll disappear when the work here dries up. And now he realizes for the first time, Jason hasn't constantly thought about when he should hoof it and move on to the next town. He's met people here, nice people, who don't pity him but instead are trying to get to know him. It's a bit disorienting, but he's not against it.

"You're a good person too." Jason turns his attention back to the butter, pressing the butter to the bowl as she directs him to. "You said I can ask questions?"

"It's got to be hard, to have something- god, just taken away from you. Not that it's necessarily what you want to do, but... you should do it, if you want to do it. I know that seems sort of-" She's mincing the orange peel without thinking, and the kitchen is starting to just now smell like baking bread. "... Trite, I guess, but if you still want to box... do it. Go for it."

She reaches around him to sprinkle in a good teaspoon of the orange bits while he's mixing the butter, and she rolls her shoulders into a shrug. "I'm a person," is her answer to him saying she's a good person. She doesn't feel like it, because she keeps lying to everyone, because of a lot of reasons, but she nods. "Yeah - whatever you want. I'm an open book." She flashes a smile, and grabs a whisk to lightly beat the eggs. "Ask away."

"I think I'll check it out. It's a good stress relief and it'll definitely pass any down time."

Raleigh may think she's just a person, but here she is going out of her way to teach a homeless guy how to bake and she's making dinner for him. She's also taking the time to talk to him and get to know him. That's a pretty good person in his book. "Same rules. You don't have to answer if you don't want, or can't. Why move to Siren Cove?"

It's weird - she's known him for a week or two, and he's certainly the person she's talked to the most; he's the only one who knows her real name, and the only one she's ever taught how to cook and she's in love with his dog, but she doesn't actually consider him homeless. She doesn't even think of him as that way, but then again... she doesn't think of herself that way, either. Because he's got the cabin where he's staying, it just doesn't even enter her mind.

But the question he asks - she should have expected it, should have guessed that it'd be about how she got here, so she just sort of... pauses. In the middle of whisking, she just... stops, for a second, the way she did when he said her name.

"I didn't." She swallows thickly, and she doesn't actually look at him as she stares down into the bowl. "You can't tell anyone." it's important, that he doesn't tell anyone, and that's when she looks over at him. "Okay?"

It's only when he agrees that she continues. "My dad - when I moved to Boston, he gave me these phone numbers, right? Says if I get into trouble, I should call them, and there was this- This guy or guys or something, they kept following me and the police wouldn't do anything, so I called, and midnight ride with a guy in a pickup truck to who knows where, and then I'm here and he says to keep my head down, don't tell anyone who I am, and he leaves."

She clears her throat. "Can you grab that pan for me?" She nods up to a pot above her head.

Jason stays quiet as she speaks, wondering to himself what the hell kind of trouble her father could have gotten himself into. And she was brought here with no explanations?

He promised not to tell anyone, and of course, he secret is safe with him--just like her name. He reaches up to grab the pan, handing it to her. "Haven't heard anything since?" It definitely sounds suspicious and now he's wondering if she's safe.

She shakes her head slightly. and dumps the egg mix into the pan, moving over to the stove. She's not told anyone, and one of the reasons she's not looking at him is because it's upsetting. Of course it is. "It's- It's been almost six months, and he took my phone, and he said it was dangerous but that I'd be safe here. If I kept my head down, nobody'd find me and I'd be okay, but-" She flicks on the burner and grabs a spatula, because cooking - making eggs, since the bread'll be done in a few minutes - is a way that she can just not actually look at him.

"So yeah. That's... that, I guess. Can you put the butter in the fridge?"

Edited 2014-06-03 19:16 (UTC)

Jason's wondering why on earth Raleigh's told him all this, since it seems like she'll be in danger if this person finds out she's told someone. Then it hits him. Six months in hiding weighs on a person. He's not sure if she's made much of a life here in Siren Cove, but intuition tells him otherwise. Maybe she's started to open up just recently. Or maybe telling someone who might be gone in six weeks will help her get it off her chest for the time being.

Still, he takes the butter and sets it in the fridge. He's really not sure what to say. She's not looking at him, of course she's not, this has to be upsetting to admit. So his next question is soft. "Do you feel safe?"

He was the first person she'd actually gone out of her way to talk to - she'd spent five months barely talking to her coworkers, to the cashiers at the grocery, to people who actually approached her trying to be friendly. Then she realised she couldn't live like that. She couldn't do it - and that's when she'd seen him sitting on the curb with Alfredo.

She's stirring the eggs - they're on a low, low heat, and she's watching them before she adds a shitton of butter - the unflavored kind.

Finally, she looks over at him, and her eyes are shiny with unshed tears, and she just shakes her head once before she looks back down at the eggs. No. She's stirring them as she takes them off the heat, holding the pain away from the still on burner. She has no idea what she's hiding from, and it makes this so much worse. Every person she meets could be the one that if they knew her name, or if they noticed her...

"But I make do," she finally says thickly, because that's not what this is about. She clears her throat, not knowing what else to say besides, "What else would you like to know?"

He'd be lying if he said his heart didn't break a little at the shake of her head. She doesn't feel safe, how could she? She doesn't even know what she's hiding from. He's thinking that had to be a lonely, frightening six months. He's been on his own since the age of ten, but anytime he felt unsafe, he simply left. Raleigh doesn't have that luxury and doesn't even know why she's here. She didn't have the choices he did.

Jason knows he's pushing now. He doesn't want to push her past her comfort zone, but he also feels an overwhelming need to help her in any way he can. Not because he pities her. He likes her. She's fun to talk to and Alfredo adores her. "What helps you feel safe?"

Her answer's a stupid one. She knows it, and that's why she makes the eggs for a few moments longer, taking it on and off the heat as she waits for them to firm up.

"Your dog," she says finally, her voice tight. ".... and you, but it's not- it's not the way it sounds." The tension's there in her voice. "Everyone else in this town - they could be it. I didn't mean that I think you'd... help me, or anything, I know- I barely know you, and I wouldn't ever assume--." She clears her throat and starts again. "Your dog makes me feel safe, and I know that I don't have to be scared of you, and I trust you. That's what I meant. That's all."

Because she thinks, at least, that if somebody tried to hurt her, Alfredo would raise hell, if he was around; and she would hope that Jason would care - she knows what she would do if something bad happened to him, but... she's not going to assume. She can't. "Can you get the bread out of the oven? There's oven mitts in the drawer next to the stove."

God, she needs to drink more beer.

Ah, Alfredo. Truthfully, the dog helped Jason feel not just safe but sane since they found each other two years ago. He's glad Alfredo helps other people as well. He's loyal and fiercely protective.

He nods. "I understand. He makes me feel safe." Jason grabs the mitt from the drawer and opens the oven, making sure not to drop the bread. He sits it where she gestures and lingers beside her. "Just so you know, I'd help you. If anything ever happened. Not just Alfredo."

The eggs are finally starting to firm up, and she stirs them quickly as she flips off the burner, spooning in the creme fraiche and chives and salt and pepper into them quickly, taking the opportunity to not say anything for a minute, before she dumps them into the bowl she has waiting, and then sets the pan down on the burner with a clank.

She finally looks at him, and her eyes are damp, but she's ignoring it, looking up for a second so that she can try to blink them away before she finds words. "I don't even know how bad it is," she says lowly, shaking her head slightly. "I don't want people getting hurt for me. That's why- I shouldn't have ever told you my name, Jason, but I just- I couldn't not anymore." She looks away, and she scrubs at her cheek. "Hey, at least it's dinner, right? We can turn out the bread, and the butter should be cold, and there we go."

He gives her a warm smile, letting her blink back the tears. Time for reassurance. "Out of anyone here you could've told, I think you accidentally made the right choice." He ticks off a list like he's listing his resume to her. "I have a cool dog who will protect you if you ever get nervous. When I'm not working, most of my day's spent people watching, so guess who'll know if someone's acting suspicious?" He gives her a cute "this guy" look. "And I'm available anytime you need anything."

Jason smiles again. "I'm ready to try beer bread."

"You really are a good person, Jason." she says quietly, and that thought crosses her mind again - the one that had her look away an hour ago, when she thinks about kissing him, and it's something that makes her look away, it makes her turn and grab the loaf pan and turn it over and thankfully the bread just slides out in one piece. She slices it - still warm, in big fat slices that she puts four on his plate and two on hers, dishes out eggs, and grabs the butter out of the fridge and sets it between the two plates. "Voila, pretty much. Have at."

The eggs are soft and creamy, the creme fraiche giving it a good bit of flavor. The bread's good - fresh and warm, and surprisingly hearty and just a little bit sweet, and the butter's got both zing and sweetness from the orange and honey. It's real food. "You baked, see? You're absolutely a cook." She smiles at him because she wants him to take away that he can do this. And ignore the woman who nearly cried into the eggs.

"Thanks." He's rubbing the back of his neck again, and he realizes it. It's a nervous trait. She thinks he's good and that feels nice. Jason watches as she cuts the bread, serves the eggs, and sets everything out nicely. He's got a pretty proud smile on his face as he looks at the meal they made.

"So I did. And I didn't burn the place down." At her encouragement, he dives in, finally realizing just how hungry he is. It's amazing and he's absolutely in love with her cooking, dear God. He's never had scrambled eggs that tasted like heaven. He nods his approval. "Damn good."

She smiles at him, and she's proud of him. "And the bread's all you," she says once she swallows. "And it's awesome." With the amount he's eating, she's pretty glad she made six eggs (and pretty much gave him four.) "Next time - if you want to do this again, we could make lobster? And rice. Super easy, all of it, and you'd be able to cook for yourself when you're on the boat?" She's trying to be helpful, and not talk about her own... issues.

She takes a deep swallow of beer, and sighs quietly. There was something about him - she really, really needed to stop spilling her guts. Really really. "Or whatever. I'm pretty much all about cheap and easy." She paused, and then actually made a face. "Please tell no one I actually said that, please and thank you."

It's the first full meal he's had since Iris made everyone food at the community garden. Before that, hell it'd been months. His plate is pretty much clean in record time and he's not finishing his beer. "I'd like that," he nods. He'd like to cook with Raleigh again, even if it didn't include big reveals of secrets. She made learning to cook easy and made it hands-on for him.

Jason laughs, really laughs, to the point where it hurts his side a bit. It's more her reaction to her words that's hilarious to him. "No worries. But I will remember that you said it."

Her brows shoot up and she can't stop the words as they sort of just fall out of her mouth as she smiles up at him. "Oh, you're filing away that I'm all about cheap and easy? What, for future reference?" She's half teasing him, half flirting with him, and all pink, from the roots of her hair down to the neckline of her shirt.

"For future reference." He's grinning down at his plate before he looks at her. "Top secret." He's only now aware he may just be flirting.

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