Disclaimer: Don't own, didn't happen.
The Story:
His eyes opened to the glaring, unforgiving light of dawn. It scorched his vision and left brightly colored trails against the back of his eyelids. Davey winced and tried to turn over. He felt heavy and weighed down.
Oh no, he thought, I�m thirteen again and I�m just getting over the flu. Mother will come in any minute and try to feed me that awful soup.
But his mother didn�t come in with any soup. Soup that would be one of the reasons Davey choose a life of cooking, to prevent as much bad taste in the world as possible. Because of his mother, Davey became very particular on just WHAT he�d eat and just HOW things should taste.
So, he wasn�t thirteen, but close to thirty. And he was a master chef. . . well, almost. He just needed to get a certificate on that, though he had no idea how to go about doing that. Certificates were given in Lodd, the kingdom over to their North. Scholars and professionals all went to Lodd to get their certificates. It was Davey�s dream to one day get one. The only thing that stopped him was getting enough money to pay the tuition. . . and getting permission to take time off from the kitchens. He meant to ask as soon as he raised enough money, both of which wouldn�t come very soon.
Davey shifted again. There, a little better, but the pressure on his chest was becoming a burden as he tried to breathe. Davey forced his eyes open and looked down. A blond head lay on his chest, breathing in time with him. Davey was so puzzled at this, he merely lay there and stare. Someone slept on him? Who was this? How did they get in his chambers?
He looked to his door and found a wall. Stupidly, he looked around. This place looked familiar, but only slightly. Oh, look, there�s the door. And there�s his clothes, scattered about like no care in the world.
A small moan from the blond. His caring nature pushed all puzzling thoughts out of his mind and he stroked the soft, short hair and murmured soothing sounds. The person shifted, clutching tighter, and fell back to sleep. Davey put a hand to their back and stroked gently. He paused, then felt more of the back.
My, they�re strong, aren�t they? He thought to himself, then frowned. Who was on him? Who did he know with short blond hair and strong built? Davey moved his head to the side and saw a strong forehead. He frowned, then shifted further and further to the side until he saw his lord�s complete face. Horror dawned on him.
Davey�s mouth opened in a silent scream. What the hell was going on?? His eyes took in the clothes, the room that wasn�t his and the lord that slept on his chest. Understanding struck him around the same time as his memory. Images. . . sounds. . . sensations, flowed through him and nearly made him shudder. Oh, what had he done? What was going to happen? Was he going to get tossed to the side, like a common farm girl? Would he never work in the kingdom again? He had to do SOMETHING!
He looked to the side and out the window. He never trusted clocks as much as he did the sun, one thing that was almost always constant in this land. And if the sun was right, he was about one hour late to the kitchens.
He cursed silently and looked down. Ah! But he didn�t want to wake a sleeping lord. Nobody disturbed a lord. That could end up being a death sentence. So what if he just moved him?
Davey pulled his arm friend from the sheets beside them and began working on Lord Hunter�s grip on him. �Shh, shh,� He cooed softly as Hunter began tightening his grip, �it�s okay, it�s okay, go back to sleep.� Slowly, Hunter relaxed again and Davey was able to slip out from underneath him.
He angled gently off the bed and rushed silently around for his clothes. He stubbed his toe on a chair while getting his shirt and had to clamp a hand over his mouth in order to stop from yelling out an expletive. He looked fearfully toward the bed as he ungracefully hopped on one foot, half-clothed. But Hunter�s eyes were still closed, mouth slightly open.
Davey dressed and straightened. He took one last look at Hunter�s sleeping form, then turned and walked out. As soon as the door closed, Hunter�s eyes opened and his mouth closed. He had woken, actually, two minutes before Davey. He just didn�t want to disrupt the moment of the two of them sharing the same bed.
He hadn�t wanted Davey to go, but despite the convincing temptations he had given last night, Hunter knew it was best Davey leave first. Although it was an unspoken custom for one man to bed another in times of personal need, it was unacceptable for two to be seen together on a public basis.
Things like what happened last night had to be kept discreet or the wrong kind of attention might be put on Davey. Hunter was free from ridicule and snubbing, up to a point, simply because he was the lord of the kingdom. He could put to death anyone he choose, for any reason. Except for the royal family, of course.
Oh, how he would LOVE to kill Armenia. She had more skeletons in her closet than anyone really knew. Like, for instance, how she got to be Princess Armenia of the kingdom before she married. Even in a waiting list of nearly a hundred sisters, cousins and aunts. What she did to close up the ranks. . .
Hunter growled and sat up. No. He wasn�t going to think about her. He was going to think about. . . Hunter looked back down at the bed and saw a treasure laying across the pillow. He sucked in breath and lay back down, face inches from it. Carefully, Hunter picked up the long, black hair and held it up like the only evidence left of the previous night�s passion. He wrapped the hair around his left pinkie and tied it securely. Next, he turned his head and inhaled the scent off the pillow.
Ahhh, heaven! It still smelled like the raven-haired cook. Hunter relaxed and flowed into the peace the man always gave him. Either smelling the scent of his hair or body, or simply peering into those dark, nearly bottomless eyes always set Hunter into a new mood, one peaceful and free of worry or doubt. With Davey, he always knew what and who he was. There was no question about it.
Hunter inhaled once more and sank into deep sleep.
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Davey ran down to the kitchen at full speed, rushing past the dozen or so grumbling field workers and soldiers to put on a large kettle for the morning drink.
�Davey!� Nim roared angrily. The captain of the royal guard stood tall, taller than the other men, and bore the signs of many battle scars. And now he glared at Davey in a way that made the smaller man�s knees shake slightly. �Where the hell have you been? Your kitchen should have been warm hours ago! Your laziness has made my men late! I should have you whipped!� the men cheered their agreements.
Davey, however, trembled and gave a soft wail as he hurried about. �I�m s-sorry, sir. Please, it was just� just--� no, he couldn�t say it. He couldn�t say the reason why he was late.
And reveal his shame of being taken by a man? What would they say, Davey? What would they do? Would they spit on your counter like Fritch and Smith had done? Or would they whip you anyway?
So Davey hid his excuse by opening the oven. Inside were the two dozen breakfast rolls he�d made the night before, just before the Lady�s dinner. He always baked them early and set them in the stove to slowly heat up when he made up the fires in the morning. They always tasted warm and fresh-baked simply because he never took them out.
�Well, these are a little cold, but still fresh. Made them just a few hours ago.� He said, voice a little wavering. But when he set the trays on the counter, every single roll was snatched up and eaten quickly. The kettle was nearly done so Davey hurried about grabbing dozens of clay cups.
None of the men helped him. They simply ate and watched him hurry. They were men of the field or soldiers after all, not kitchen wenches. Just what they thought of Davey as, though no one said anything. Long ago it was determined that Davey wasn�t kidding when he became the first male to head a lord�s kitchen. They knew he meant to continue life as a cook and not try to get a REAL man�s career, like knight, soldier or even black smith. It was fine with them. The less competition the better.
When the breakfast drink was done, Davey poured cups that were quickly snatched away. The men left soon after they finished drinking, having their own duties to perform. The last one to leave was Nim. His was the only drink still untouched on the counter. Davey set the empty kettle down and turned fearfully back at the Captain.
Nim�s glare was cold and penetrating. �Davey, lad, I�ve known you since you were a boy. I�ve grown up with your mother. I know what kind of a man you are. You�re not one to be lazy. But I swear this, I SWEAR, Davey, if you make my men late one more time. . . I will personally whip you in the court square. Do you have that clear? Do you understand?�
Davey�s head nodded vigorously. And although his eyes filled and shined, he didn�t cry. Nim saw this and nodded. �Good. You�re beginning to know what it�s like to be a man, even though you don�t live like one.� he turned and stomped out.
Davey bit his lip at that last remark and he turned quickly before the tears fell from his eyes. Yes, he knew now, Nim WOULD have beaten him for knowing where he had been the night before. Davey scrubbed his face on a hand towel and regained his composure. No time to think about that. It was morning and the Lady would wake soon, if not already. He had a kitchen to see to.
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It was around noon that Lord Hunter finally made his way down to see Davey. He hadn�t closed his eyes for fifteen minutes that morning before his chancellor and other members of his royal office barged in and forced him to get to work.
�You�ve been gone for two weeks, my lord!� His advisor, Jonathon, exclaimed while adjusting his glasses, �you HAVE to read these policies and sign THESE!�
Hunter finally made it through them before being besieged by his wife. If it wasn�t the depressing state of the castle, it was her worn clothes, then her anger over this bill being passed but not that one, and on and on . . .
She had charged into his room, fully clothed and bitching attitude in full mode. He could take only five minutes of her before tearing out bed and throwing on his clothes.
�Where are you going?� Armenia demanded. �You still haven�t said what sort of entertainment you�ve planned for the summer ball!�
Hunter growled. �Rrrgh! Because I haven�t decided yet, woman! I haven�t had any breakfast yet and already you�re tormenting me with your voice! Leave me!� he commanded. Armenia folded her arms and stood her ground.
�Absolutely not!� she flipped through her book and began reciting. �You need to decide on the entertainment, decide on a theme color AND figure out which of your brothers you�re going to invite and where you�re going to put your father.�
Hunter bit his tongue and jammed his feet into his boots. �Fine, you won�t leave, I WILL!� he then ran out the room and down the hall. Armenia, he saw with a quick glance backward, began to follow. Hunter looked around quickly and spotted two of his chancellors still in the hallway. He nearly ran to them.
�Chancellor Jonathon, Chancellor David, please, if you could, er. . . Distraction Plan number 35?� he nearly pleaded. They spotted Armenia and smiled.
�Yes, my lord,� Jonathon said.
�Our pleasure.� David said. Hunter told them his thanks and hurried off. Behind him, the two men forced their way into Armenia�s path and began their ploy.
�Oh my! Lady Armenia, is what a lovely surprise!� David said.
Jonathon joined in, �Yes! It is! And� I say! Is that a wrinkle?�
Armenia stopped dead, hands going to her face in shock. �What?� her voice squawked like a bird. �Where??�
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Hunter smirked and made his way into the kitchen, relaxed and composed. There was Davey, just as always, bustling about and getting things done.
He wasn�t an anal perfectionalist like Armenia, but things always came out right under Davey�s hands. And not just the food. Everything Davey did was perfect. Everything from the orderly, organized kitchen to the clean, scrubbed floors. Nothing was short in supply and nothing went missing because it was only Davey in this kitchen. He only had to cook for the lord and lady, and any guests they had. All the workers and soldiers had their own homes to return to every night.
It was the mornings, Hunter understood from talk of his men, that Davey always made them hot breakfast drinks and baked for anyone who was up at that time. He meant to get up early one of these mornings and taste that drink and eat that food for himself, but he never could wake up early enough.
Hunter watched Davey, the latter unaware, as he gracefully moved about. His speed was unnatural, his skill uncanny. One minute he was slicing vegetables, the next he was kneading dough, the next he was throwing a roast with all the trimmings into the oven. He flowed from one thing to another, never letting anything stay still for too long. He turned this, mixed that, sprinkled a little of those and poured in some of these. He was an orchestra in motion, if Hunter had known what an orchestra was, really. He had come to his kingdom by being what he was, a warrior, not a statesman.
Hunter walked further into the kitchen and stood beside the counter where he was sure he would be noticed. And he was. Davey was moving a tray of sliced pears to the counter when he looked up. His mouth gaped open in shock and the tray went tumbling to the floor. Hunter rushed forward and seized the tray before no more than three fruit pieces landed on the floor.
�Whoa,� he chuckled, then set the tray on the counter, �these suckers are tricky little devils, aren�t they?�
�M-m-my lord.� Davey said quietly, taking a step back.
Hunter saw this and closed the space between them. �No, no, Davey! Don�t be like that! Please! I don�t want there to be any awkwardness between us, okay? What happened last night, it was. . .� he put a hand to Davey�s trembling cheek and slowly moved forward. He closed his eyes and made as if to kiss Davey, but simply inhaled. He opened his eyes, face much closer to the other�s.
�What did you think, Davey? Honestly.� Hunter whispered. �Tell me what you thought. Was it good enough for you? Would you want to do it again?�
Davey forced himself to stay calm. Just stay CALM. Yes, you could be sent to the gallows for this. But your lord asked you to be honest. That was a direct order. Davey swallowed and opened his mouth. Then shut it again. What was he going to say?
Honest, yes, but what did he honestly think of last night? Did he really think it was such a bad thing, what they did? Did he really want to continue this, this secret, shameful act? His face burned. Yes, it was shameful, wrong and possibly not within the law, no matter what Lord Hunter had said the night before.
Davey looked up, about to say he didn�t want it to continue, but he stopped. He was now looking into Hunter�s eyes. Those crystal clear eyes. Eyes that searched his own face, looking for. . . what? What were they searching for? Hope? Understanding?. . . . Love? Davey caught his breath. He saw as much of Hunter as Hunter saw of him, and that was quite a bit. Davey realized he could see this man�s entire intentions and what exactly he wanted of Davey.
Him. He wanted Davey. He didn�t want another servant or a new private attendant to see his bed was as comfortable as possible, he just wanted Davey. A small smile curved his lips and a new expression softened his eyes. �Honestly?� he whispered.
�Yes,� Hunter said faintly, becoming lost within Davey�s eyes again.
�I. . . I liked it. Very much.� Davey said, pushing past his own reserves. �And if it pleases my lord so, I would like to continue. . . er, when appropriate.�
Hunter grinned widely. �Yeah, it pleases me. It pleases me that you�re pleased.� he moved slow, making sure Davey knew what he intended, and placed a soft kiss on his lips. Davey returned it as best he could since he lacked the skill.
Unaware to the both of them, the door opened and the witness from the night before peered in. They froze and glared at the two. So that was how he was going to play it? Well, there was more than one way to skin a cat. And it was to first skin their chew toy.
Armenia silently stepped back and gently let the door close. So Hunter wanted to keep the cook as his chew toy, did he? Well, he forgot to look out for the dog, and Armenia was one hateful bitch.
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End of Part Three