& then the winter came

⭐⭐ august montague, 30, director

[augustmontague]

richie.

Richie wasn’t much of a cook, didn’t even know how to boil an egg and would probably burn water somehow. He was equally as hopeless with baking, it had way too much math and calculating bake times and whatever else was entailed, he had only wandered into the baking class in the hopes that he’d get to snack on some of the finished products. He didn’t at all expect or plan to actually do any work. Richie just stood on his side of the bench and mixed a bunch of random ingredients in a bowl, hoping to pass and blend in. He looked over when he heard someone speak to him, eyebrows going up when he recognized the other. “Like, on me?” he asked, shaking his head lightly. “Don’t exactly walk around with a spoon at the ready in case souffle happens.” he joked, before waving over the bench. “Your guess is as good as mine,” he told August. “Didn’t know you were a baker,” he couldn’t help but comment. 

Compartmentalisation had always been a useful tool for August. He took aspects of his life that he found difficult to deal with, or that caused distress, and then he boxed it away into it’s own space. Richie was one of the people who had been relegated to one such box. The thought even saying the words I’m Gay out loud make sirens go off in his brain, and it took him a while to even get himself into a place where was comfortable hooking up with the same guy more than once. The boundary ended there, though - strictly sex, nothing else. Baking lessons weren’t ideal. But it was too late to just walk away, so he tried to play it off once he realised Richie was there. “On your bench, dumbass.” He rolled his eyes, and leaned over to the counter to look, spotting a wooden spoon near the back and plucking it from where it lay. “I don’t bake.” He said, paradoxically, whilst mixing the batter in his bowl. “Didn’t know you did.”

[augustmontague]

???.

Caleb took a moment to think through his admittedly limited culinary history, “We had to bake cookies from scratch in year nine,” he recalled, “We had a compulsory home economics class and at the end of it, we got into pairs and had to put on a dinner party for our final assessment- I was partnered up with this girl who wanted to be a cake designer, so I was set. Every time we had a school event or a birthday in our class she’d come in with something she’d made, so I was set,” Cal had designed the invitations on Microsoft Publisher and he’d set the table, for the rest of the assessment he’d been under his partner’s direct instruction and had hardly had any input outside of that. They’d passed, of course.   “Parfait,” he repeated, that was it, that was what he’d been thinking of. “Yeah, yeah, like at Starbucks,” he recalled with a nod of his head. “Wait what- are you joking? Eggs and cheese? I thought it was like a cake thing- that sounds like a quiche,” he scrunched up his face as he spoke, evidently not a fan of quiche, as it turned out. “Nah, forget that, ay, I like muffins way better,” he agreed wholeheartedly with his bench buddy. “I’m doing white choc and raspberry,” he explained, holding up the recipe card he’d selected from the options, it was already dusted with flour and caked with dried batter but it was still readable.

August wasn’t much of a talker, which was what had gotten him into directing in the first place. It was easier for him to spent time with people who liked to spend their time leading the conversation, and as Caleb started talking about his year nine home economics class, he nodded along without interjecting. “Sounds ideal.” He couldn’t say home ec was a subject that he’d had offered at school, or if he had, it wasn’t one that the guys were forced to take. A lot of high school as a black boy in New York was about appearances, and taking up baking definitely wouldn’t have been a popular decision. “Didn’t know people still did home ec, honestly.” He could only shrug at the distaste of quiche, agreeing that it was a particularly gross food. “Eggs. They’re versatile.” He pulled out the muffin tray that he’d been given, starting to line it with the small paper cases. “So, how come you’re here? I got dragged here by a producer. I’m August, by the way.”

[augustmontague]

???.

Ned had learned to bake from watching his mom all those years, but didn’t have much time to do it because of work. He already knew what he was doing, but perhaps the class would force him to actually do something fun for once and not think about work. “Oh yeah, don’t worry I got you.” he said, grabbing the spoon provided for them and handing it over to the other man. “I don’t trust eating utensils from unknown origins so I usually just have one of those traveling cases for my own. You can just take the one they gave me.” It beat getting some sort of flu because someone didn’t wash the silverware well enough. Ned went back to mixing the dough before glancing back over to his bench partner. “So are you much of a master chef or is learning how to make bread some kind of dream you’re looking to fulfill in the new decade?”

It seemed a little much to carry your own utensils around, but to each their own. Plus, it meant that he got a spoon, so it all worked out in the end. “Whatever works for you, man. Thanks for the spoon.” He set to work mixing the ingredients in his bowl, mixing the dough. He’d definitely never made bread before, but there was no time like the present to learn. “Flattered that you thought for even a second that I could be a master chef.” He dropped the dough onto the table, landing with a thud for punctuation. “New skills, figured this was a good option. More useful than making a bath bomb anyway. You?”

[augustmontague]

???.

“It’s your lucky day.” Elaine easily replied, extending her now washed spoon out towards the man. “I’m feeling generous enough to share mine.” She worked quickly when it came to baking. It had always been an activity that had calmed her nerves, a skill she’d been proficient enough in to take up in her years abroad. “But don’t you know the first rule of baking is to always come prepared?”

He took the spoon gratefully, getting to work on mixing the dough together, glad he didn’t have to resort to using his hands. “I thank you for your generosity.” He still wasn’t entirely certain that she hadn’t stolen his spoon in the first place, but it was best to give people some semblance of the benefit of the doubt. “I did not know that. Not much of a baker - take it you are? That’s kind of cheating, don’t you think?”

[augustmontague]

???.

Sasha really didn’t get people who smoked weed. She had always preferred binge drinking to bong hits, but as per her Alcoholics Anonymous assignment, Sasha found herself in her local dispensary a couple hours before LA Resolutions in search of her gross misinterpretation of a healthier coping mechanism. The cooking class wasn’t originally on Sasha’s roster, but with her tattoo finished and her flask empty (and a few too many milligrams of THC in her system), the smell of warm cookies wafting from the class was too good to pass up.

“H… Wha?” Sasha hardly noticed that someone had interrupted her shoveling cookie dough into her mouth in what she thought to be a discreet fashion. Now that she really thought of it, she had hardly noticed any of the instructions to begin with, or that with the amount of raw cookie-dough she had ingested, it’d be virtually impossible to get a decent batch of cookies into the oven. “Err… No. But I don’t seem to have any cookies either, so.”

August had heard them say that you were meant to use your hands to mix the dough, but that wasn’t going to happen. He had no interest in getting flour and egg stuck underneath his nails, it sounded disgusting. As soon as the person besides him started to speak however he realised that he wasn’t going to be getting much help from them. He looked at her bowl, now consisting of very little batter, and then back to her, and laughed softly, shaking his head. “Yeah, I don’t know why I even asked, Mary Jane.”

He went over to another table, quickly negotiating the release of their spoon and came back to mix his, glancing back at Sasha and nodding over to his left. “You wanna come share mine? Not really much of a cookie guy, just thought it’d be interesting to learn.” He pulled a tray over the counter, turning the oven on to preheat and dropping some chocolate chips into the mixture. “You got an actual name there, or should I stick to MJ?”

[wickedking]

[augustmontague]

xavier.

Xavier would’ve been that person who was annoyed at someone else for talking, especially when he was taking a class in school. He wanted to learn from people and be respectful, but here he was finding himself sliding into a different role. They had attended the panel under the impression that it would be helpful - at least, Xavier had. August was less thrilled to attend, but he came along anyway. Now that he realized this class was improperly named, or at least they should’ve been more specific about what phase they’d be taking about here. He planned to go to a screenwriter’s panel later, but now he was second guessing going to that one, too.  The panel still had awhile to go, and he felt rude for leaving. Certainly a little quiet conversation was less rude than getting up and leaving, right? Just in case they did end up saying something of interest later. “Not a Stephen King fan?” he said, refraining from laughing but still offering a smile. He raised a brow out of interest when August brought along a bet. “Doesn’t seem like something I want to bet against, since it seems like it’s not going to get any better.” He paused for a moment before offering his own counter suggestion. “But I think a drink will be needed after this, so I vote we get one anyway.” It wouldn’t hurt to get to know August on a more social front, right? They were only in pre-production, and they had a lot of months left to work on this project, so they were better off getting to know each other more socially in Xavier’s mind.

"Honestly, I’ve only ever read The Shining and Carrie - and the former adaptation by Kubrick? I mean come on.” He didn’t read much of anything anymore - outside of scripts. He’d read Xavier’s book, obviously, because he couldn’t very well adapt a novel without it. It would not be something that he’d physically show the other guy though, given that it was now entirely marked up with highlighter, pen and little sticky notes for scenes he wanted to make sure made it to the film. He’d heard it said that it’s impossible for an author to be happy with a film adaption, that - other than maybe Gillian Flynn, no author had ever really felt that the medium managed to portray their vision. That being said, August wanted Xavier to like the film. It mattered more that he liked it than anyone else, but that didn’t mean he was going to do whatever Xavier wanted. Their production conversations had come close to an argument a few times already. 

August laughed softly in response to Xavier’s point about it being an unfair bet - it was the answer he’d expected. He was more surprised by the suggestion they get a drink afterwards anyway, though, and there was definitely a prominent part of him that wanted to say no. They were colleagues, and so it wouldn’t be professional to drink together. That was the reason. Which he reminded himself of when he looked back over to see blue eyes waiting expectantly. He’d decided to say no before he spoke, and yet no was not what came out. “You’ve got a point.” He tuned back into the panel only to hear them discussing the use of saturation dialling in flashbacks and sighed quietly. “Make that two drinks.”

[augustmontague]

???.

“Uhh,” Cal hesitated as his eyes wandered to the extra spoon on the countertop beside his mixing bowl, the one he’d managed to swipe from August’s side of the bench.  “Yeah, too easy, bro,” he assured the other male, deciding not to explain why he had two spoons to begin with. Truthfully, Caleb had dropped his own spoon almost immediately and instead of asking for another one, he’d just grabbed the nearest one within reach. Now the spoon that had spent some time on the floor between them was the one he was handing back to August. It probably didn’t have any lethal diseases attached to it, Cal decided, what August didn’t know, couldn’t harm him, right? “You bake much? I have no idea what I’m doing ay,” he confessed with a chuckle, “I’m great at eating baked goods but if I’m honest, I don’t even know what the heck a souffle is- I thought it was a thing with yogurt and berries in it,” parfait, he was thinking of…but close enough, Cal.

Part of him was confused by the too easy comment, but as per usual for him, he decided not to press it, just saying thanks as he took it from the guy besides him and started mixing. “I don’t think I’ve ever baked anything, so figured I should start.” He didn’t have much interest in the kitchen, but whilst he was there it made sense to pop into one of the cooking classes. Even if he was likely to make something inedible. He did side-eye Caleb as he gave his description of a soufflé, shaking his head as he mixed his mixture. “Nah, man. You’re thinking of a parfait. Soufflé is baked eggs - sometimes with cheese.” Not that he was sure he’d ever had one when he thought about it. “More of a muffin guy anyway.” Which was convenient, given that that’s what they were making. He picked up the blueberries from the options available, dropping some into the mixture. “Which ones are you doing?”

[augustmontague]

xavier.

When Xavier heard about the resolutions event, he was genuinely excited to attend. It seemed like there were some genuinely good panels and classes that he was interested in, one panel even being hosted by an author he really liked. The panel he was currently sitting in was different, but still seemed pretty relevant. Its focus was on turning books into film or television adaptions, and considering that was his next big project, some producers of the film suggested that he and August attend it together. They had already talked over some details (note - talked over details, definitely did not decide on details), and they seemed to at least have a few wheels turning on this project. They had only been sitting in the panel for about fifteen minutes, and Xavier had yet to hear one thing that they hadn’t already done or discussed. Brow furrowed slightly, he tilted his head towards August. “Does any of this really seem helpful to you?” he asked, immediately earning himself a look from another audience member. He shot them an apologetic look and took his voice level down an octave to be quieter. “Maybe it’ll get better, but this doesn’t seem entirely helpful so far.”

It would be no surprise to most people to hear that August wasn’t thrilled about attending the Resolutions event. He wasn’t ardently against it, but he’d more come along because it had the promise of possibly being interesting, and he knew better to than to irritate producers. He was very glad that they’d chosen to sit at the back, because about five minutes in he’d realised that this talk was not helpful at all. It seemed like it would be useful to people who were thinking theoretically about book adaptations, and not therefore much use if you were well past that point. He smiled to himself as someone shot an annoyed look at Xavier following his comment, leaning back in his chair, to seem lower down, resting his foot against the empty seat in front of him. 

“Surprisingly - I’m not feeling enlightened by the copious references to The Shining.” Producers sucked. Of course they thought that this would be a great opportunity, probably without actually looking into it properly. He wasn’t about to walk out fifteen minutes in, that was a little too rude, but he’d pretty much zoned out entirely. Making sure his voice was quiet enough to avoid being glared at, he elected to glance over at Xavier instead as he answered. “Bet you a drink that this does not get more interesting.” 

[augustmontague]

Where: Baking Class, LA Resolutions

When: Saturday 4th of January

Who: Open! @thejunglestarters​

A skills event really wasn’t August’s ideal choice of daytime entertainment, but the filmmaking panel he was headed to didn’t start until 3pm and he’d arrived early. Since he’d paid $15 to get in, he figured he should try and make the most of it. After perusing a few different options, he’d eventually wandered over to the where the baking class was about to start, donning an apron and pushing his sleeves up as he got the ingredients out as they were told to. He noticed his lack of spoon as everyone else started mixing their dough, looking around and eventually settling on the person sharing his bench. “Hey - sorry, do you have a spare spoon by any chance?” Worth a shot.

[loveforbucky]

[rob-pattinson]