2019-10-07 - Enchiladas and Other Messes

Someone from Instacart just dropped off five bags of groceries, they're out on the counter next to Mae's phone which is playing a helpful video on youtube about how to make enchiladas. She frowns at the instructions, giving a dubious look back at the stove. Everything is very clean, and it smells a little overwhelmingly like lemon in the kitchen. Lemon cleaner.

She starts to pull things from the bags, and then she starts opening cupboard doors. A pan, a .. okay it's asking for a certain type of pan that she's reasonably sure she hasn't seen in this kitchen before. She pulls out a few options, looking them over before she sets them aside. One of these will work. How does one preheat an oven? The instructions are confusing her, and they're supposed to make all of this easier.

She pauses the video and pulls out knives to cut up things. She can do this, really she can. Maybe?

Having been out and about, it gave Mae ample time to plan to do things that might blow up the house. Thankfully, just as she's reviewing those instructions the handle of the door rattles after the lock clicks open. Dylan emerges, looking rather pleased as he passes through, that messenger bag slung over his shoulder.

His foot kicks shut the door, and then he stops dead in his tracks. "More groceries?" It clicks that she's by the oven. With knives. His eyes open wider in horror and terror, those brows knitting up, and he ever so carefully begins to head towards the woman. "Uhmmmm," It's that sound a guy makes when a girl asks if those jeans make her butt look big. Except in this case? It's Mae + Oven. "Watchya dooooing?"

By the time that Dylan walks in, Mae is bouncing to music as she washes the outside of veggies, ready to cut them, and probably a few fingers off. She raises her head when he comes closer. She spots the terror in those eyes and she smiles at him, too confident. Too bright. "I'm cooking enchiladas. There is a video over there, it's going to teach me how." She points helpfully to her phone.

The oven is set 50 degrees too high, the knife she has isn't sharp enough to dice veggies and the pan won't be nearly big enough. She's trying, okay?

"Enchiladas?" Comes the question, uncertain where this particularly sudden desire came from. He makes his way ever so slowly forward, his eyes darting to the oven, over to the video, that knife, and his brow scrunches up further still. Dylan lifts a hand, a single finger extending in that, 'one moment, please?' gesture. "Want help?" He sounds so calm, but his eyes? His eyes plead with that, 'omg say yes plz' sort of look.

Knife first. That's the most important thing. He pulls out one that he knows is sharper, one that can dice those up well enough, and this is ever so carefully slid towards her. "Try this?"

Mae nods as Dylan comes closer, the smile still on her face. She cleaned the kitchen, is he going to notice? Men are supposed to notice these things. Her smile falters a bit as he doesn't notice, he seems to be quite focused on her and her attempt at cooking. Bastard. She sees the pleading look and she nods, shrugging a slightly bare shoulder. Must be his t-shirt she stole. "Yeah, You can help if you want."

She looks amused as she is slid a sharper knife, her eyes shifting from the weapon to Dylan. "Okay. So how do you dice a veggie?" Unfortunately this question is completely, one hundred percent serious.

There is a perplexed look she is given at this desire to cook, though it isn't judgemental. Just absolutely, completely confused given past comments along the lines of she'd never even use a toaster again in her life. There is a look of relief in his features when she agrees, and that better knife is taken up, and it lets him soak in even more about the place. Like the clean kitchen. The clean... what is going on here? "Cleaned. Thanks."

He tries to hide the worried look he casts her, but when that question comes, he doesn't hesitate to answer, as best he can. "Small slices." Carefully he comes up behind her, seeking to take her hands in his, and those fingers? They are scooted back further than they need to. It means they make the chunks a bit larger than ideal, but it's better than having perfect sizes with blood all over them.

"Well, last night I was at work and we got waffles, and Love and some people started talking movies and we decided to have a movie night over at my ..well at twenty one? And I wanted to ask you to come, we're going to have enchiladas and burritos and caramel pop.. wait, I texted you about this. Anyway, I woke up this morning and I really want an enchilada." Mae beams a bit as Dylan notices her efforts. It's probably best if he never asks how she managed it. She just aggressively wipes up stuff with a mixture of bleach and lemon cleaner. Hey, stuff is clean, right?

She notices the worried look, and she doesn't pull away or get annoyed as he steps behind her to show her how to dice the veggies. "These look bigger than the video." She comments, her head bobbing to the music. Her phone vibrates and she shoots it a look, then gives Dylan a slightly guilty look. She tries to tap the screen to blank it before the text comes up, but Love is right there asking about the tentacle that Mae mentioned was under the bed. Oops.

His face is a myriad of moving emotions as she begins to talk. His eyes arch upwards as if prepared to remind her she mentioned movie night, but he doesn't interrupt. And then they become heartstricken when she mentions enchiladas first, only to once more rise to a crescendo of delight when she says burritos are still on the menu, so to speak. "Oh. Ok." Right. She wants an enchilada? She should know by now that Dylan will make this happen, one way or another, regardless of the means he has to use.

"Practice. Better." He speaks from experience on his art on this, that you can't ever get it just right the first time. The pieces are turned and diced again, and yes, there is no mistaking the fact that he looked down and saw that text. Blink. Blink Blink. "Should reply." Staaaaaare. And then he reaches over to turn the knob on the old stove, not making an attempt to hide, but to help. "Toooo hot." He explains, before his finger taps at the little, easy to miss triangle that shows where the heat is set.

"We're also maybe having tapas too, but I'm still not completely sure what they are. Something of a smorgasbord?" Mae watches the gamut of emotions play over Dylan's face, blinking slowly until the final one settles. She squints at her square veggies, not looking diced at all, but if it tastes good, she doesn't give a shit what it looks like. Oh, they're smaller after a second go round, and she looks pleased, about to reach out and press play on the video when .. text. Shit.

She puts down the knife, snatches up her phone and sends off several texts. The final one mentions that she's busted and will S.O.S if Love has to come save her from a pink riding crop. She watches him turn down the stove, leaning in to see what degrees it's on before she sets down the phone again and presses play on the video. The guy on the screen goes pretty fast. Open cans, brown meat, mix veggies, brown tortillas, make sauce. She squints at it, rewinds it a few times. Frowns. "Did you catch any of that?"

"Tapas?" Dylan is no help there, his own face showing a look of curiosity and confusion as he tries to puzzle out just what it might be. Up his shoulders come into a hapless shrug, and then he looks down to watch the video as it starts. The first thing he does? Is look at how much she has, and then he grabs the pan and puts it away, getting out a larger one. "Brown meat." He concludes first, a brilliant smile that shows he knows how to do this. Ish!

"Texts? Yes." He answers about 'catching any of that', a sweet and innocent smile coming to his face. Does he know what she really meant? Probably, maybe, but he's still going to call her out on it anway, seeing just what exactly she'll spill, if anything. "Meat. Pan." He directs, leaving this part to her.

"Yeah, right? What is a fucking tapas?" Mae squints at the video and shakes her head, watching Dylan put away the pan she found to pull out a bigger one. Huh. Then he says he's going to brown the meat, whatever that means. She follows closely behind him her eyes wide, her lips slightly pursed.

"Just chatting with Love about cleaning and stuff. I dusted too." She points out toward the living area. She might have gotten halfway through doing it, more lemon scent. She glances at the pan and then back to Dylan. "What do I do with the pan, and the meat? Put the meat in the pan?" Oh she's browning the meat. Okay. She turns the burner on, and then turns it up. She carefully opens the meat, and dumps it in a lump into the pan where it starts to sizzle.

"Medium heat." He offers up to her when that burner is turned on, and then he looks around for a spatula. This is pulled out, and he attacks the meat for a second to break it up to show her how to do it, before that instrument of potential meatly destruction is handed over to her. "Dusted?" A beat of a pause as he looks around, that concerned look crossing his features again. "Thanks."

"Cans." He saw what cans. He goes to the bags to see which ones they need, pulling them out. "About tentacles." He comments about the 'and stuff', and once the cans are set out? Instead of opening them, he pulls out his phone. He hums to himself as he swipes a few times, and then starts to tap tap tap out on that phone. Click, send. A beam of innocence towards Mae, and then he shoves the phone back into his pocket.

"This isn't medium?" No, Mae. It is high. She turns it down a little bit and watches him ground the meat further with the spatula. When it's handed to her, she gives him a look like 'The fuck am I supposed to do with this, asshole.' before she pokes at the meat with it. She nods absently when he thanks her again. "You don't have to thank me." She says after a moment, and then turns her head briefly to watch him root through bags.

"Well I was curious about that, and a few more things under there. How did you get such a collection?" Might as well be forward with her questions, right? She sees him pick up his phone. Her eyebrows rise slightly, she's still poking at the meat. "Were you texting the tentacle to tell it to get lost? Or Love to say she can borrow it, because she can't. I want to try it first."

It's a sweet look of innocence that creases his features when she asks what he was texting to who, knowing she'll surely find out soon enough, if her own phone isn't already lighting up with a couple of texts. "Do too." He murmurs about thanking her, and then Dylan sets about opening up the cans as instructed. A low 'hmmm' comes from the man as he considers how to best answer that question. It isn't reluctance, but how can one explain tentacles and other... things beneath ones bed in two words?

"Pranks. Curiosities." He offers up at first, one shoulder lifting up into a hapless shrug. "Girl. College," He starts off about the tentacle in particular, a scrunched up look coming to his face. "Prop exchange." Probably for drawing, one would have to guess, some sort of bring in something and exchange it so you get out of your wheel house of comfort.

Mae's phone doesn't buzz or anything, which is good because she's watching the enchilada guy explain how to pull it all together and get it into the pan. She glances at all of the ingredients and looks dubious about their future success. She smiles at Dylan when he says that he does have to thank her. If she wasn't chained to the stove with a spatula, she'd give him a kiss. She continues to poke at it, attempting to get all of it brown, but the stubborn pink just isn't going away.

"Oh, mmm?" She shifts her hazel eyes in his direction, smirking. "So the riding crop and those handcuffs were an exchange too? Didn't get them to play with?" She points at the frying pan. "Is this all brown enough?"

He peeks in on her after a bit, and then his hand wraps about her own to help break up the meat more, flipping it over so that the pink gets down further on the pan to help. "Not quite." He says as he points out those smaller parts that still need a touch more. He watches the videos again... does the stove need to be on? He watches to see if it's a get a glassware pan to put it all into and then shove it in to cook, or if it's all on the stove top.

"Uhhhmmm," Here, his eyes go wide with innocence, before a wry smile curls to the corners of his mouth. "College party." That's all the further he can get, of course, his voice stopping there in the hopes that it might explain everything.

Mae leans back against Dylan when he steps up behind her to help with the meat, letting him guide her movements with a slight smile on her lips. "Thanks." She murmurs, her eyes shifting to the video. There seems to be a point where everything is wrapped up in a large tortilla and sauce is poured on top before it's slid into the oven. The oven has been preheating for a while, it's cold outside, so it's been nice and toasty in here. "Won't that pan break?" She asks, it looks like it's made of glass.

She turns her head enough to see the look of innocence on his face, her own eyes narrowing. "You know that I don't buy that innocent look, right Dylan?" She smirks and rolls her eyes. "We've been in bed together, you're about as innocent as a wolverine." She bends a bit, letting her ass bump into the front of him.

"Special glass." He assures, though he can't recall the type it is. Those cooks and their special names for everything. He's had it in there before, after all, and it's worked this far. He reaches over to grab the tortilla shells, starting to layer them in that glass pan so they form a 'u' shape, ready to hold delicious goodness. But first? "Add diced," Stuff. Shit. Whatever one thinks he'd have used, it gets the point across as he motions from where they were cutting things into the pan with the meat.

It's her sway back that has his own hips pushing forward to pin her against that stove, letting both the heat of it as well as the heat growing in his pants to be felt as those jeans begin to bulge. It's a lull of a moment as his head dips down, teeth nipping against the lobe of her ear, before he promises. "Crop you."

"Special glass." Mae nods a few times, she trusts Dylan not to help her blow up the kitchen. He at least wants his house in one piece. She adds the veggies, stirring them around so they catch the heat of the pan. When he pins her, she sucks in a quick breath, shivering at the feel of those teeth against her ear. "Oh will you?"

She wiggles back against him again, giggling softly before she continues. "You can try, we can fight it out, or you can just handcuff me somewhere. Not like I won't enjoy it." She goes back to stirring veggies in the pan with the meat. It smells pretty good.

It's ever so alluring and heated, the way his lips can be felt forming those very few words that they do against her ear, to let her feel them as much as hear them, giving them all the more weight as he speaks slowly and with purpose. "Cuffed. Bent." It's a firmer push against her, the timing? It all adds up to the moment that she had said she'd enjoy it. "Hard. Demanding." It creates an undeniable heat and desire in that voice, until the smell of the cooking meat and veggies brings him back to the moment, and he slackens that hard hold just a bit, peering down with a 'hmmm'.

He waits until it's ready, or at least his best estimate, and then states. "Stuff. Shells." Motioning from pot to pan. "Wrap. Fold." He motions to the tortillas after that. He reaches over, dragging a can of the enchillada sauce over, before his head tips to the side. "Cheese?" Did this recipe call for it, was there even any to add on top of it all in the bags?

Mae stands there, one hand on the handle of the frying pan, the other on the spatula, her head tilted as he murmurs in her ear. She tries to breathe slowly and evenly, but she can't help herself, she leans back against him, completely forgetting about the food. It's the power he has over her, and he seems to be well aware of it at times. She blinks when he releases her slightly, her eyes ticking up to his face as a smile forms on hers.

She stirs again and then carefully lifts the frying pan to swing it toward the glass one. She follows his instructions carefully, her bottom lip caught in her teeth. "Cheese is in the fridge." She murmurs, setting the frying pan and the spatula down so she can fold the tortillas. "Okay, sauce and cheese?" She hasn't looked at the video again, Dylan had caught her attention.

He slips away, but it's with a grind of bodies, and one hand lowering to brush against that lovely rump, giving it a squeeze before he trundles off towards the fridge. It's popped open, and he peers inside to rummage around, finding what they are looking for. "Sauce, cheese!" He cheerfully offers up, giving that brilliant smile to her that is so often found on his features.

He heads back over, nudging her the sauce to pour over it while he follows with the cheese. It's sprinkled on liberally to make certain they will be nice and gooey when they come out, before his head dips down to the ove. "Pre-heated," He offers up, motioning to the light to show that it's currently not heating because it's reached that temperature. "Put in." And then wait for... how long? He peers back over at the video.

Mae pouts when he slips away, but she doesn't make any noise about it, they're cooking after all. She watches him grab the cheese, and she grabs the can, pouring the sauce liberally over the enchiladas that they've put together. She glances at her phone, poking her finger at it so the video will play as they work together. Seems these go in for twenty five minutes, maybe a few minutes less if you're using a gas oven.

She picks up the pan and slides it into the oven, staring at it for a few quiet beats. "I just made food." She murmurs, glancing over at Dylan. "Did you see that? Food. I did that, with your help." She looks very happy, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

It's one of those old school timers with the turny knobs that Dylan grabs, whirling it around to 25. Good enough! It starts the audible 'tick tick tick' count down, and then when Mae offers up her own notes of surprise and delight, that big and beaming smile is cast back towards her. "Congratulations!"

His eyes dance with pleasure as she bounces up, and his hands come behind him as he steps forward closer towards her, a brow lifting upwards. "Any reason..." He glances about the room, and where she has cleaned, hoping she gets that inquiry, as if afraid he's missed a birthday, or that things had gotten /far/ worse than he'd realized around the place.

Mae swallows, gazing up at Dylan, slipping an arm around him to pull him closer. "I woke up today, and I wanted to cook, but I felt like I should clean first. Then.." She wrinkles her nose and leans her forehead against his chest, gazing down between them. "I feel like I stay here and I don't do a lot to help. I want to help sometimes. I want to help you." She shrugs and then she gestures to her phone, her face still hidden from him. "Then Love asked if I were pregnant." She glances up finally, smirking at Dylan. "I'm not. I just.."

"Maybe this is a way for me to thank you." She says quietly, looking as if she were questioning that herself. "Because this isn't normal, and I'm sure sometimes that I'm a pain in the ass."

His head tips one way and then the other, listening to that start and stop. He seems to accept all of that first of the explination, even if there is a morsel of desire to let her know there isn't any need, but he gets it. That is, right up and until she mentions that question Love asked. Every bit of the color drains from his features. He even wobbles a little bit. "YOU SURE?!"

He's sure she said something after that. His eyes are still all crossed, a gulp comes from him, and he braces himself on her shoulders to make certain his knees just don't give out. "Isn't normal," It's the best he could latch onto, a gasp of air taken in.

Mae watches his face, until he hears the pregnant part and then she sees him fall apart, right in front of her. Yikes. She opens her mouth, shuts it, and then opens it again. Words failing her for a moment. So this is what one of her panic attacks likely looks like. She finally nods slowly, putting her hands on his face so she can drag him down the few inches to her eye level. "I'm absolutely sure. I can't get pregnant. Take a fucking breath."

She draws one hand away to give him a light slap, a wake up slap. "I'm not pregnant, Dylan. Never will be. Take one more breath."

"Is our relationship normal? I'm still not even sure if we've decided if we're monogamous or not. I'm playing all of this by ear, and let me tell you, it's scary as fuck." Mae stares at him to make sure he's not going to suddenly pass out.

Those eyes flutter when that light slap comes, and his head jerks a touch, eyes going wider. "Ow!" He definately doesn't remember that as part of how to get her out of her own panic attacks, but it does seem to do the job. "Not pregnant." He sounds dubious, and those eyes even look down at her stomach, like after all of one week it'd be big and round and he just hadn't happened to notice until now. "Uhm. Ok."

He reaches out, grabbing the pen off of the fridge to make a note on the paper that he, at times, remembers to write down what he wants for groceries, and then always forgets to take with him. 'Buy condoms'. A slow breath comes from him, and at her question of their relationship being normal? It gets a warm bit of laughter from him. "What's normal!" A hand lifts to wave around the town in general. "Shrimp. Music." A huff of breath comes from him, and there is that lopsided smile. "All good."

"I don't like condoms." Mae remarks, reading the note that he makes. "I can't get pregnant." She gazes up at his face, eyebrows raised slightly. "We haven't used them thus far, are you really going to buy some of those rubber menaces?" She reaches for his waistband, pulling him closer with it, a pout on her lips. "Still haven't answered that monogamous bit. Never will, I wager." She looks thoughtful, her eyes shifting over his face as she considers something, her tongue running over her canine tooth.

She releases him and pulls the note he just wrote off of the note pad, crumpling it up, gazing down into the oven. "So hungry." She laments, tossing the balled piece of paper from hand to hand.

"Can't?" Yes. This clicks. She'd said it before, and finally he draws a line through it to cross it off the list he never remembers to bring with him anyway. That tug is more than enough to get him over towards her while she busies herself with crumpling it up just for good measure, and around his arms come to drape against her. "Pondering." He offers up truthfully about that particular question, watching her carefully.

"Not certain." There is more, and his mouth opens and closes, before he gives a frustrated sigh at himself, foot tapping as he waits those few seconds. "Not fucking," He comments, for clearly if he'd been wanting to do that, she'd not have seen nearly as much of him as she has. "Both figuring," That finger goes from one to the other to gesture, before it ends pointing at her. "Want monogamous?" His own eyes look to the oven, and then the timer, which has ticked down all of three minutes. Le sigh. "Worst part." He mutters about this whole cooking thing.

Mae nods as Dylan says he is pondering, going still as he drapes his arms around her. "If you don't want to be, it's fine. I just want you to be hones.." Then he starts to talk, and he's not certain, not fucking anyone else, and still figuring things out. Makes sense. She gazes up at him when he points that finger at her and asks the question. Then, infuriatingly, he turns to look at the oven.

Her hand settles on his cheek to pull his gaze back to her. "Dylan, I wouldn't have asked you or even offered it up as a possibility if I wasn't okay with it. You're the only person I've been willing to offer that to. The first person I've offered this relationship thing to. If you want these things, take them. I'm not losing anything by offering them to you. Don't you get it? I care about you."

Around his head comes back to look at her, and up both eyebrows come. "Relationship." This part? He is certain of. Hell if he could describe it to her, especially not in two words, but there is no quibbling in his mind just what they have. "Care lots." Down his head comes to bump gently against her own, noses nuzzling, and a low rumble of delight comes with that closeness. "More than..." Well, he can't finish the thought, but the lingering 'anything' resides within there, felt by the way his smile forms against her mouth.

His arms squeeze, holding onto her tight as he lifts to dangle her from the tips of her toes, and his eyes look into her own. Deciding things? Clearly not his forte, always finding it easier to go with what others want. But there is every bit of sincerity in his conclusions as to where they stand, no touch of deceit to be found in a single bone in his body. "Clear enough?" He asks, hopeful.

Mae wraps her arms around Dylan's neck when he dips down to nuzzle against her, the rumble making her smile, her lips pressed against his cheek as he speaks. She gets that part, the care that he has for her, it probably matches the care she has for him. They're on the same page there, and then he lifts her into the air, holding her close. She watches him and when he asks if he's been clear enough, she huffs out a sigh.

She wiggles and grimaces, managing to get out of the circle of his arms. She stomps on his foot with her own socked foot, probably not hurting very much, but it's more of a point than an attempt at domestic battery. She stomps around him toward the bedroom, and if he had designs on following her, well the timer goes off then. "If you didn't get it!!" She calls out from the bedroom. "It wasn't CLEAR ENOUGH."

"Yes or NO works BETTER!!" She's still yelling, that's not a good sign.

A small 'oof' comes from him, and he seems truly perplexed as she begins to stomp off. Does he have half a mind to follow? That's what they always do in the movies, right?! But before he can make up his mind, the timer goes off, and so he turns to face the oven. And then the yelling comes. While she can't see it? Every bit of Dylan seems to melt and shrink, no doubt compounded in the aftermath of The Baby Scare of 2019.

He does, at least, manage to keep it together long enough to remember to first, grab a hot mitt, and to second, pull the food out of the oven, and finally to shut off the heat. Thankfully, the kitchen won't burn today. He gulps as that yelling continues, and this? This amount of emotion just seems to overload the artist, or maybe he's concerned he'll start feeding off of it and Very Bad Things will happen.

Whatever the reason, he just snaps, quickly and quietly making his way to pluck up his messenger bag and to slip out the front door before she has a chance to come storming back into the living room. At least he left the enchiladas?

Mae sits in the bathroom for a good twenty minutes, letting her anger simmer close to the surface. Why can't that damned man just answer a goddamned question?

She does come out to make sure the enchiladas are not burnt to a crisp, and finds the house empty. She picks up her phone, taps her fingers along the surface before she puts the food into one of those handy leftover containers. She disappears into the bedroom, and when she reappears she's dressed for the weather. The enchiladas are put in the fridge and then she's out the front door after she grabs her purse.