In Heaven, the French are Chefs || Francis

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 599

Tags: Francis, Mona

Notes: <3 you Mona

Alfred hummed a tune as he walked down the street. It was a rather chilly day and the American had his hands in his pockets, walking along the street easily. It was a fairly nice street, though not too nice. It wasn't too hard to imagine the man fitting in. His clothes, while certainly not extraordinarily fashionable, were certainly presentable. Acceptable, on this street.

Of course, Alfred had planned it that way. Years ago, he would never have thought about his attire, would never even have cared...but that was years ago after all. He couldn't afford to be careless now. Carelessness meant a slip up and a slip up...well, that could lead to some rather undesirable consequences.

Which was, naturally, why he was on this street in the first place. Because Alfred's final destination lay on the other street. He liked to call it the Mansion Street, because that was literally the only thing on either side of the streets. Mansions full of wealthy, mostly snobbish politicians...

Alfred would be the first to admit he was rather judgmental sometimes.

Still, there was at least one good politician, and it was towards his house that Alfred was heading. Glancing behind him, Alfred made sure he was the only one on the street before slipping into a hidden passageway. The backdoor to Francis's house was always locked, naturally, but even if his friend hadn't handed him a key, Alfred would've been able to pick the lock. It was complex, yes, but Alfred hadn't lived on the streets for three years without picking up a few tricks.

Swinging the door open, Alfred was greeted by the sight of the humongous mansion that had seemed so detestable to him only a year ago. It still seemed too large for Alfred to understand, but no longer did it cause him to twitch in irritation. The back door was just visible from where he stood, but he was concealed well enough that no one from the house would be able to see him.

He had dropped Francis a letter a week ago confirming their meeting time, as per their protocol. Alfred never dropped by the man's house without warning unless it was an emergency. It was against Alfred's instinct--they were friends of a sort after all, and friends were supposed to meet rather frequently--but he knew that if he stumbled in while Francis was in an official meeting, it would likely blow Francis's cover and possibly land him in jail. After what Francis had done for him, Alfred owed him at least that much.

So here he was, a few leaves in his messy blond hair. Alfred adjusted his glasses on his nose slightly and straightened his brown bomber jacket. He wondered who Francis had in his house this time. It always seemed to vary.

If Alfred was very honest with himself, he had been looking forwards to this lunch for quite some time. Francis was one of Alfred's only true friends, one of the few people left that really understood Alfred. He couldn't see his friend as often as he liked, but he still trusted the man with his life.

Alfred smiled as he opened the back door to Francis's house, which had been left unlocked in anticipation for him. There were few times when Alfred allowed himself to forget and enjoy the moment, and this was one of them. The air was fresh and the sun was shining. Today was a good day. Today he was alright.

Of course, his stomach reminded him, it might just be the promise of food.

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Deleted]

"Lately I been, I been losing sleep"

The arranged lunch date with Alfred was finally here; Francis couldn't say he wasn't just a little bit pleased to be able to talk with the American again for more casual conversation, besides the typical Freedom Fighters planning. More than anything, Francis greatly appreciated being able to have a person to openly talk to about his genuine views. Someone who agreed with him, someone who knew the truth. It was very liberating – and it was one reason of the few he looked forward to their meetings. Alfred F. Jones lived up to the sort of stereotype of Americans; it depended on the day whether that was a positive or negative trait, but it usually tended to shift towards the negative side.

Not that Francis had anything against Alfred, no – but he could be such a child. Immaturity often came hand in hand with Alfred, and yet, so did bravery and determination. Some might consider his actions foolish, reckless, and just plain idiotic, but his heart was pure – and that was the most important part. Francis commended him, admired that particular aspect, but that didn't excuse his otherwise childish behavior and tendencies to hold grudges. The boy had a lot to learn, and Francis hoped he would at least attempt to learn it sooner rather than later.

Expecting Alfred to arrive soon, Francis had cleared out the kitchen and given his employees this shift off. This wasn't unusual for him to do, and the cooks and other staff were used to it; they were well aware Francis enjoyed cooking himself, and some days he preferred to have the kitchen to his lonesome. Some of these occasions, of course, were for Francis's lunch dates as he liked to cook for his guest – and others were simply because he felt the urge to go and just create something. When he was younger, he used to sneak into the kitchen and watch the chefs make his meals, and Francis fell in love with cooking. The kitchen staff would sometimes let him help, and easily he became well-versed in the culinary arts.

He was aware of how Alfred liked his cooking and thoroughly appreciated it; Francis was grateful he enjoyed it as much as he did. There was no greater joy than cooking for than someone else, and being able to watch their eyes light up in happiness at the pleasant flavor of the food. It was the kind of experience that was not like any other; the kind that made Francis feel genuinely good about himself – he felt human. No obligations of pleasing the public with lies and manipulation – just honest, home cooking.

For today's lunch, he had decided to prepare steak. It was typically something to have for dinner, but Francis thought Alfred would be satisfied with it, and wouldn't complain. Carrots and potatoes were going to be a fine side dish, and seeing as this was essentially just a dinner meal anyways, Francis selected a bottle of wine for them to drink. It was something he was sure even Alfred's poorly de-sensitized taste buds could appreciate.

The door swung open, and Francis glanced over to the clock on the wall. Only five minutes late this time – that was much better than previous arrangements. He smiled cheerfully in Alfred's direction, gesturing at the meat he was currently cooking, ”Bonjour, Alfred! Tell me, how do you like your steak?”

electric has gangnam style

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 571

Tags: @mona

Notes: Alfred -->

Francis Bonnefoy.

Alfred spotted him as soon as he entered. The man was standing next to the kitchen stove with something in the pan. The smell of cooking meat made Alfred's stomach grumble a little. Alfred wondered what Francis was making and whether or not he could sneak a taste before it was served. The man had set out a bottle of wine (what wine, Alfred had no idea, though knowing Francis it would be fancy) and several plates. Francis glanced up at Alfred as he entered. It didn't surprise Alfred at all when Francis snuck a peek at the clock. Hey, at least this time he'd been fairly on time.

"Bonjour, Alfred!" Francis's tone was cheerful and Alfred gave him a friendly salute and grin. "Tell me, how do you like your steak?"

Steak? Alfred smacked his lips. Gosh, he was surprised. Francis didn't usually make steak. He usually made something very much French, like...like those snails Francis had served once. Alfred had always been willing to taste just about any sort of food, but snails? They had tasted good, Alfred would give him that, but who was that first insane person who had decided that snails would taste good?

Francis had probably decided on steak today for Alfred, which the American was glad about. Already, the steak smelled great in the pan. He wondered if Francis had picked up barbecue sauce.

"Medium rare," Alfred grinned. "Thanks Francis. How are ya?"

Alfred headed over to the table. Francis usually didn't like him coming in to cook, especially after the first time Alfred had been curious enough to try... It wasn't that Alfred couldn't cook. If he hadn't been able to, he'd probably be dead. No, it was just that after living on the streets for so long, Alfred had wanted to experiment. By experimenting, he meant trying to add sauces and and spices that may not have mixed well together. He didn't do it as much at home (Alfred rarely played around with his food as much at his own apartment), but Francis's kitchen was so large and rather tempting. He may have made a bit of a mess with the chocolate. At any rate, afterwards, Francis had politely requested Alfred leave the cooking to him instead.

Alfred took his jacket off. Francis's house was warm, even in the middle of winter. It'd been a cold walk but now Alfred felt rather hot with his bomber jacket on. Remembering (mainly due to several scoldings) that Francis liked things fairly neat in his house, Alfred placed his jacket on the back of his chair before.

He hesitated slightly after this. Alfred didn't like sitting down for too long, especially with Francis still cooking. He supposed he could help in some way other than cooking. Francis had gotten the wine out but not the glasses... Alfred headed over to the wine cupboard and took out two glasses. He poured the wine himself. It wasn't a skill Alfred had required by chance, no. He'd pretended to be a high-class waiter a few times and that meant knowing how to pour wine. Alfred was okay with wine. He didn't like it as much as coffee or Coke, but Alfred knew that it was Francis's favorite beverage.

Feeling a little more satisfied that he'd at least done something, Alfred turned back to look over at Francis. "Hey, you about done?" he smiled.

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia

[Deleted]

"Dreaming about the things that we could be"

He laughed at the audibility of Alfred's stomach rumbling. It was just like the American -- he could be quite the glutton, honestly, but Francis didn't mind. It was lovely to know his cooking could be appreciated in such a fashion, and it was the more the merrier.

"Medium rare. Thanks Francis. How are ya?"

Medium rare was easy enough; not any fun when it came to cooking, but simplistic and typical of Alfred. The steak was nearly completed to the epitome of the perfect medium rare already, so he remained patient as the meat continued to sizzle in the pan. "I am well! I am glad to see you here so soon."

He was pleased as he watched his guest guide himself over to the table, and even more so when Alfred, considering and aware of his actions, hung his coat on the back of his chair. A sense of pride overcame Francis's emotions that the younger man was finally learning his manners and genuinely listening to his requests. It had only taken a few times, reprimanding and reminding -- but it was certainly worth it, and it had paid off quite effectively. It was a fatherly sort of feeling, a parental glow that warmed his cheeks. It was a relief to know his words were being heard.

Francis hummed as Alfred approached the wine cabinet to fetch a pair of glasses for the wine. His help was appreciated, and it was thoughtful of him to have done it without being asked to. He finished cooking the steak, a delectable scent wafting from the pan, and placed it on the two plates. He dished the carrots and potatoes next to the main dish respectively; condiments such as butter, sour cream, and salt and pepper were already present on the table.

"Hey, you about done?" He heard Alfred ask, and as he turned off the heat of the stove, the red light dimmed to black. He set the plates in their rightful places on the dining table as a non-vocalized answer.

"Here you are, mon cher. Bon appétit!" Francis returned Alfred's bright smile, and seated himself delicately. He reached for the glass of wine that his companion had poured for him, and drank a sip. "Mm, yes, this is lovely indeed."

electric has gangnam style

[Alfred F. Jones]

it's a

revolution

Word count: 442

Tags: Francis

Notes:

Francis returned to the stove, doing whatever one did to ensure that meat turned out properly. "I am well! I am glad to see you here so soon."

Alfred laughed a little at Francis's phrasing, which was no doubt a casual reminder of how often Alfred came in late. He didn't disturb Francis too much as the man continued cooking and finally sitting down at the table, waiting for Francis to finish up. Francis began humming and Alfred allowed himself to sit and listen. He wasn't, by any means, a patient man but Alfred was more willing to wait for food than perhaps anything else in the world.

Francis came over, bringing the plates. Alfred's mouth watered. Carrots and potatoes next to a beautiful and most likely perfectly medium-rare steak. Alfred's stomach grumbled audibly as he resisted the urge to dig in immediately. He really should wait for Francis (but did the man really care all that much about Alfred's manners? Especially when it came to food?).

"Here you are, mon cher. Bon appétit!" Francis smiled brightly and seated himself, which Alfred took as a cue to dig in. Within seconds, the fork and knife were in Alfred's hands and he was cutting into the meat happily. The vegetables could wait. They were the side dish after all.

Unlike Alfred, Francis reached for the wine first. "Mm, yes, this is lovely indeed."

Alfred, a piece of steak already popped in his mouth, paid little attention. Francis, as usual, had it perfectly seasoned and cooked to the tee until it basically melted in his mouth. Alfred usually liked slathering his steak in steak sauce but this was good enough to do without.

He cut himself another piece, trying to remember to chew his way properly through the meat before swallowing. God, it was good. Alfred cut a chunk of potato and popped that in as well before he reached for his own wine glass.

Alfred didn't know much, if anything, about wine. He picked the glass up and took a sip of it. It tasted good, not too bitter, not too sweet. Not that Alfred would be able to tell if it was bad or not. Regardless, he trusted Francis's judgment, and Alfred doubted the man had ever owned a bad bottle of wine.

After he'd satisfied his stomach with half of the steak, Alfred leaned back and took a break. "Man, that was good," he said, closing his eyes for a moment.

"So, Francis," Alfred said brightly. "What have you been up to recently? It's been too long since we got together! Other than meetings, of course, but those don't really count."

i suppose

by Worldie for Leia