By TC Blane, Dabin Reece and Fleur Le Marc
80403.19
Concurrent/Following Foraging
-=Aboard the USS Serendipity=-
80403.19
Concurrent/Following Foraging
-=Aboard the USS Serendipity=-
TC Blane was not a man accustomed to taking vacations.
They were just not his style. He found that he much preferred to stay at his post, following his routine, and keeping watch over his ship and crew.
As he tugged down his uniform tunic, straightened his combadge, and smiled. Even though the day before had been one ‘off the clock’ so to speak, it had been a very good one. Memorable, too.
He headed into the corridor and into the lift, seeking out his first cup of coffee and perhaps, something from Fleur’s recipe book to go with it.
The lift doors closed and he addressed the computer.
“Deck eleven, aft.”
Normally he would expect to come across February Grace in the Afterthought this time of the morning- greeting him with a bright smile as she sat by the window drinking her tea, and remarking, as she did every day, how much she loved Fleur’s sugar cookie recipe as if she were tasting it for the first time. Something about her ability to be surprised, continually and repeatedly every day by the smallest of joys and things she considered to be blessings was one of the traits that had endeared her to Blane long ago.
He doubted, however, he would see her there this morning.
His mind returned to all the events in the Arboretum the day before. . .
-=Flashback- =^= During the Blessing Ceremony =^=-
Pride.
Pride was not an emotion that TC Blane allowed himself to feel very often. He always felt that it was a weakness. A weakness that had brought the downfall of many a hero, and villain.
But on this day, the day he was asked to give away the hand of his adopted sister, was a day he allowed himself to feel pride. Honors such as this did not come often to a soul. Mostly reserved for fathers who were saying goodbye to their little girls. TC was truly honored and proud to give February to Dabin.
At the small cake and coffee reception that followed, he was first in line to dance with the bride, well not exactly, but an intense stare at the ensign in the front of the line changed that. He smiled broadly, a rarity to be sure, as he stepped up to Bru and hugged her tightly.
“Congrats Kid.”
"Thanks, TC." Bru placed pencil-thin arms around his broad shoulders and squeezed hard as she could. It felt, she imagined, like it would feel to hug one of those massive marble sculptures of the human male that she'd seen in so many museums on Earth as a child. No matter how tight she hugged, nothing gave. "I can’t tell you what it means to me, that you were a part of the ceremony. Thank you.”
“What are brothers for?” TC grinned.
“Well they sure are there for you when you need them,” She lowered her eyes, “Our conversation the other day, I can’t tell you, Thomas,”
Blane saw the emotions in her eyes and patted her on the head gently. She had never called him by his full first name before, and for some reason, it brought just the slightest lump to his throat to hear it.
“Don’t mention it, sis. Again, what is a big brother for if not to remind you every now and then of what you’ve really known all along?”
Bru nodded and stood on her tiptoes, giving him a kiss on the cheek. She looked around at the assembled company and turned her thoughts back toward the here and now.
“One thing is for sure, I don't think any couple has ever been so thoroughly married. No excuse for anyone to say we're not legal now!"
TC smiled again. “That much is true.”
“Mon frere! Great job with that giving away thing. So glad you’re here. Thanks for being part of this momentous occasion.” Dabin swept up behind Bru and put his arm around her, grasping her at the waist. “Isn’t she ravishing? I love how she looks every time I marry her.”
“Oh, nonsense. I just look like me.” February said shyly, still unused to such remarks about her physical appearance. Inside she still felt very much the ugly duckling she had been all of her life, and until her Zhian’tara. “You, however, look devastatingly handsome. Wouldn’t you say, TC?”
Blane’s eyebrow shot up. “It is not generally my custom to critique the physical appearance of other men,” He began, causing Bru to giggle. “However, I would submit that Mr. Reece does in fact clean up pretty well.”
-=End Flashback=-
It was highly ironic to Blane that Reece had looked so debonair the night before, dressed to the nines and the very picture of masculine charm. . .because as he rounded the corner and peeked into the kitchen of the Afterthought, it was a very different Dabin Reece who was standing behind the counter in Fleur’s place.
He was wearing an apron, and one of Fleur’s chef hats, which Blane was certain was really going to tick off the miniature French woman when she returned to her post.
Momentarily distracted by the smell of coffee brewing, TC shook his head clear and then focused on Reece again.
“Good morning Fleur. You've changed a bit since last I saw you.” Blane said, intentionally addressing Dabin by the baker’s name.
“Bon jour!” Reece chirped back in falsetto. “Whatever you want get for self, Monsieur Blane, I am, how do you say, busy.” He held a pastry bag in his hands and was squeezing out pink icing onto each of the heart shaped cookies on the tray before him.
Strewn on the counter before him was a disaster of mixing bowls, confectioners sugar, a bottle of pink food coloring, and a pitcher of water. Various spatulas and spoons were also decorating the countertop and upon closer inspection, Blane noticed Reece’s hair was somehow dusted with the confectioners sugar as well, and he had a smattering of the pink frosting across the front of his apron. TC wondered how in the worlds anyone could get into such a state making one batch of frosted cookies.
"What are you doing?" TC asked, as he surveyed the mess.
"Haven't you ever seen a man bake cookies before?" Reece asked innocently.
"Yes I have as a matter of fact, and it didn't look like this."
Reece ignored TC's comment and set out once again with the icing. After a few moments Reece set the pastry bag aside. "I suppose you could do better?"
TC raised his hands as if to say, "You don't want to go there." He snaked his hand around the mass of bowls and spoon towards one of the unfrosted cookies.
"Ah!" Reece saw the hand coming and slapped it away.
"Hey!" TC protested. "What is it about cooking that gives people such terrible manners?"
"Terrible manners is reaching for food you weren't invited to enjoy." Reece said succinctly.
"You know I learned things in Special Ops, I could take a cookie and you would never even know it was gone, not without intense psychotherapy and memory retrieval hypnosis anyway. And I know seven ways to kill a man with a pastry bag."
"Yeah well I know seven ways to do... things. So back off."
"All right." TC said.
Fleur entered the room, and Reece froze in his tracks.
"Uh oh." TC and Reece said in unison.
"What did they teach you in Special Ops about dealing with crazed French women?" Reece whispered.
"Hide the knives." TC whispered back.
"I don't have time for this." Fleur said, sounding surprisingly calm. "Who is going to make my breakfast, and who is cleaning up this mess? Peel me a grape Mr. Blane."
"Uh, I guess I can take a crack at breakfast." TC said.
"Two eggs, sunny side DOWN, 3 and a half, no more, no less strips of bacon and two slices of toast with raspberry jam. Do you know the difference between a raspberry and a strawberry? Because so help me..." Fleur rolled her eyes.
"Would you like Zanh Liis' image burnt into the toast?" Reece mumbled under his breath.
"Trill, I swear I have cleaning supplies under counter that will take the spots right off of you." Fleur said. She hadn't heard what Reece said, but assumed it was bad.
TC opened the refrigeration unit, looking for fresh eggs.
Locating the eggs he picked three up into one hand. He closed the door and found a suitable non stick frying pan hanging neatly above the stove. He pulled down the pan with his spare hand flipping it to the correct side and placed it onto the one of the available burners.
Setting the flame to a medium burn he deftly cracked each of the eggs with one hand and emptied their contents into the pan. He tossed the shells into the waste reclamation portal before returning to the reefer to locate the requested bacon slices.
Returning to the pan with the bacon he checked on the eggs. Seeing they were close to being ready to be flipped he looked for a spatula. After failing to locate one he shrugged, picked up the pan with his free hand, and in a what could only be described as a skilled toss he flipped the eggs into the air like pancakes. All three performed flips and then fell back into the pan, sunny side down. He calmly added the bacon.
He looked at Reece. “Can you handle the toast?”
"Can I handle the toast." Reece asked insolently, as he grabbed the bag of bread. He look around the room at the dizzying array of devices and contraptions. "I need Lair Kellyn." He thought out loud.
"What in the world is this?" Reece asked, picking up an odd and nasty looking device.
"That's a corkscrew. Don't you ever get out?"
"Not really."
TC reached into the bag and grabbed two pieces of bread, and stuck them in the toaster.
"I was going to put those in there." Reece said.
"Sure, just get the raspberry spread ready."
Reece took the spread out from the refrigeration unit. It was nearly empty. He wondered if Fleur had been dipping into her private stock to consume the stuff straight from the jar. The toaster dinged and the toast leapt out. Reece leapt right along with it in terror.
"How barbaric! Human cooking techniques are as violent and unpredictable as their history."
TC finished the eggs and flipped them out onto a plate. Reece spread the raspberry out and declared himself a job well done as he laid the toast on the plate next to TC's eggs. The only thing that remained was the bacon. Reece anxiously awaited the end of this task so he could take his cookies and run for his life.
TC waited until the bacon strips were perfect slightly crispy on the corners but still moist and tender towards the center before moving them onto the plate. He was not exactly sure what “peel me a grape” was supposed to mean so he took a guess and poured and tall glass of cold grape juice.
He inspected the gathering of food that now resided on the plate, satisfied he carried it and the glass to where Fleur was seated. He placed the plate and the glass in front of her.
“Your breakfast, madamoiselle.”
He picked up one of the linen napkins from the table and with a flourish snapped it open and gently laid it on her lap. He folded his arms across his chest and stood waiting for a verdict on his cooking.
She gestured toward Reece's masterwork- the "toast".
"What is this supposed to be?"
TC leaned in and scrutinized her plate.
"Toast. Ma'am."
"No. This is not toast. What you call in Universal Standard 'toast' is what we call in French pain perdu. . ."
"Now, wait just a doggone second. My slug is over four hundred years old, I know what toast is!" Reece marched indignantly to the replicator and folded his arms. "Pain perdu." He demanded, also replicating Fleur's snippy delivery of the term. The dish appeared before him, and he sighed. He took it to Blane, who shook his head.
"This is French Toast." Blane announced. "She wanted French Toast?"
"Why didn't you SAY SO!" Reece stomped his foot once in frustration, frowning at Fleur.
"Pfffft. I am French. I asked for toast. I thought implication was obvious."
Reece plunked the plate down before her, spun on his heel and prepared to claim his hard-won bakery and leave. "Bon appetite, you fussy little. . ." he grumbled.
"Mister Reece," Blane's tone offered the flamboyant Trill a mild warning.
"Yeah yeah. See you later, Emeril." As Reece disappeared with a tray of food, he offered one more comment to Fleur. "Thanks for the memories, Miss Freneau."
Blane scratched his chin thoughtfully, wondering who Emeril was.
Fleur pushed the replicated plate of food away distastefully, gingerly picked up her fork and took a small bite of Blane's eggs, wrinkling her tiny nose at first as she sniffed at them suspiciously. Finally, she put just the tip of the fork's tines between her lips to taste them. She paused a moment, then at last she offered him a rare and sincere smile along with her well considered opinion.
"They are edible."
Blane grinned, realizing that this was the most positive feedback he could possibly hope for, considering the source.
-------
Commander TC Blane
Second Officer/Chief of Operations
USS Serendipity NCC-2012
and
Commander Dabin Reece
Chief Science Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012
and
Fleur Le Marc
Manager/Chef Afterthought Cafe
USS Serendipity NCC-2012
Commander TC Blane
Second Officer/Chief of Operations
USS Serendipity NCC-2012
and
Commander Dabin Reece
Chief Science Officer
USS Serendipity NCC-2012
and
Fleur Le Marc
Manager/Chef Afterthought Cafe
USS Serendipity NCC-2012