pocketpretzels | Midnight Manor Private Residence, Saturday Afternoon

"Buggered if I know," Steven admitted. "Or they say they want honesty but that only means they get to say cruel things and claim they're only being truthful. Try it in return and they bite your head off."

"Don't care for that sort of hypocrisy," Watts agreed.

"I prefer our truthful," Steven said. "Helpful."

"Even when it hurts," Watts agreed, tentatively touching one of the biscuits to see if it had cooled enough. "You understand that I, at least, am not trying to to be hurtful."

"Worrying is more hurtful to me," Steven said, to confirm Llewellyn was on the right track. "Wondering if you're upset and not saying anything."

"I will always be honest with you," Watts said, reaching for the knife to slowly, carefully, slice the first biscuit in two.

And frowning down at it when, despite his caution, it ended up slightly lopsided anyway.

Steven came up behind Llewellyn to wrap his arms around his waist. "It still looks delicious."

"It is not going to hold the filling very well," Watts pointed out.

"We'll have to eat it that much faster then," Steven said. "No harm done."

"If you say so," Watts said, sounding simultaneously disappointed and dubious.

Steven hugged him from behind. "I'm sorry, love. I don't mean to dismiss how you feel. Only to say I'm not disappointed if that's your concern."

"I am," Watts admitted, leaning back against Steven. "In myself."

Steven kissed his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I know it's frustrating when it doesn't match what you wanted to make."

"The recipe even claimed it was 'easy'," Watts sighed. "Suppose they didn't take my clumsiness into account."

Steven moved his hands to cover Llewellyn's. "Sometimes recipes lie. Remember the one that said it would take thirty minutes?"

"All too well," Watts groaned.

"There were bloody onions in it!" Steven said. Yes, he was still bitter. But then he reminded himself the time it took to caramelize onions wasn't the point. "Anyway. Sometimes they lie. They mean it's easy if you're a professional chef. Or have a time machine."

Again, the onions.

"Hmph," Watts grumbled. "Neither of which is true in our case."

"Not unless you've been hiding things in closets I don't know about," Steven said, grinning to show he was joking.

"I don't make a habit of it, no," Watts replied.

"Neither do I," Steven said. Which was true of him and Marc as well. "We'll have to settle for being imperfect then it seems."

"You'd probably have better luck than I, with these," Watts admitted, gesturing to the biscuits.

Which was why he'd asked for Steven's help earlier, yes.

"Are you sure?" Steven asked, even though yes Llewellyn had asked earlier. "I don't wish to take it away from you if you'd rather."

"I'd rather they were done properly so the fillings don't slide about," Watts told him.

"All right." Steven kissed Llewellyn's cheek then let go of him so he could get into position for slicing. "But the one you just did is mine."

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