fandomhigh | 20th Century Food Crimes, Friday 6/2, First Period

"Today," said Summer, with that look on her face that she hoped made people start sweating before she even needed to say much more, beatific and far too pleased with herself, "we are covering a few recipes that are criminal not so much in their combinations of ingredients, but rather, how they are presented. Remember, after all, that they say we do eat with our eyes first," all apologies to Ignis! Or rather, Ignis, you're welcome, for not having to bear witness to the things the rest of the class was about to see, "and so how a dish looks is important."

There were a number of looks Summer had that made Stark sweat. Not all of them in the same way. This was, in fact, one of them. “I’m concerned,” he said quietly.

Summer continued, her current look suggesting that Stark had every right to be concerned. Almost like he knew her, or something.

"I am proud," way too proud really, "to present to you all not only the infamous banana candles, but also this mushroom-stuffed plaice."

Oh no. Not the candles. Stark sighed rather more dramatically than strictly necessary, then got a good look at the second dish and had to duck his head. He couldn’t look right at it and he certainly couldn’t look at Summer right now. Not in front of other people.

"And then," Summer added, because wait, there's more! "I want you to all try my spicy muffnuts."

What? That's what they were called!

“Your what?” Stark asked, sure he’d misheard that somehow.

"Muffnuts," Summer repeated helpfully, and who was all sweet innocence now, huh? "I think you'll like them. They're spicy!

"Actually," she felt compelled to add, "not really. Like, at all, we're going by white suburbanites in the fifties level of spice here. So, like, spicy in the way mayo is spicy."

“Mayo isn’t spicy,” Stark said, frowning. “And…you think I’ll like your…muffnuts? Maybe we should just start cooking?” Maybe then he could take out his phone and look up whether or not that word meant what it sounded like it meant.

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Summer's lips pursed slightly with the attempts to keep a straight face. "Oh, I know," she assured him.

"If you needed any help later today, this is my only class," Stark offered. Helpfully. "I'm free for the rest of the day. Until Monday, really."

"That's a whole weekend's worth of help, then," Summer noted thoughtfully, "if I need it. I still have two other classes to get to after this, though."

"I don't mind waiting," Stark assured her.

Of course she already knew that.

"If you'd like help later. Or just company? Maybe we could even eat... real food."

And here you were doing so well, Stark, but now Summer was completely obligated to feign offense with an indignant gasp and a hand to her chest. "Are you suggesting," she said, "that banana candles, stuffed fish, and my spicy muffnuts aren't real food?"

And, really, as far as this class goes? These recipes were all extremely edible...if you could get past their implications, anyway.

"I'll be happy to try all of those," Stark promised. "But I was thinking of pizza, later?"

"But of course your recipes are real. Especially the...muffnuts."

Summer was never not going to have to suppress a smirk hearing someone else say it, especially when they went and added a pause in there, too, but she was trying to look a little doubtful at this appeal before giving a solemn nod. "Well," she said, "good. I'm glad you acknowledge it."

Her own pause was meant to come off as expectant, perhaps suspenseful, before she added, "And I guess we could do pizza later."

"Since last week's pizza's were crimes," Stark told her, fighting back a grin, "we can make up for it. And then I can offer you whatever help you might need with your... investigations."

"How do you know," Summer challenged, "that I just won't make these pizzas into crimes, too?"

"I was going to buy some from Raiden. If you have to do something terrible to them I'll... just have to eat something else instead."

Stark. Stark, that was not a deterrent!

"....Real food?" Summer had to ask, after a moment, because, honestly, there were so many different ways that could have gone!

"Maybe real food," Stark said after an excessively long pause. "Unless there's something better being offered?"

Summer just shrugged a shoulder, blinking a few times with a no doubt completely convincing level of chasteness. "Guess we'll just have to wait and see.

"I like pepperoni, though," she added, a beat later. "And mushroom. If even so much as a whiff of pineapple gets near it, though, I'm out."

"No pineapple," Stark confirmed. He had no problem with pineapple on pizza but he wasn't going to argue. "You won't have had enough mushroom yet with your...plaice? I like sausage, sometimes. Pepperoni is good. I could get pizza while you're in your classes."

"Should I just come over, then?" Summer wondered, again in that somewhat overly innocent way, as if she didn't already know what the answer would probably be. "When I'm finished?"

"If..." Stark caught himself and shook his head. There was no need to qualify with an 'if you like.'

"Yes. You should. When you're done. I'd like that. Should I...get anything else?"

Summer's brow quirked with that If, and the corner of her mouth did the same when Stark cut it off and changed course.

"See," she said, "I was going to ask you if I should get anything. I mean, you're getting the pizza." The grin quirked a little more and her head tilted along with it, not quite yet reaching back to twirl the end of her ponytail between her fingers, but it seemed like it would be the very next thing. "What should I bring?"

Oh, if the hair twirling started Stark would be lost. Not that he wasn't already.

"Maybe...," he said, watching her carefully, "something to drink? We might be thirsty?"

"I think I can manage some drinks." Summer lifted her hand, but it didn't quite make it as far back as her hair, just sort of lingered a little, lightly, at her collarbone. "I'm pretty good at drinks. And we'll definitely be thirsty. With all that pizza."

Stark licked suddenly dry lips and nodded.

"You're very good at drinks. You are my favorite bartender." There had been a barely perceptible pause before the word bartender.

"Should I stop at the bakery? For dessert? Or do you think we won't need it?"

"Well, you do like desserts," Summer mused, finger making that short trip from collarbone to chin to tap it thoughtfully. "Maybe you should just leave it as a surprise."

"I do," Stark confirmed, following her hand with his eye. "I'll think of something."

Something might involve whipped cream.

"Something we'll both like."

20th Century Food Crimes, Friday 6/2, First Period

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