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@elliotsdiner
crème de la crème || Sandy & Elliot
[Sandyâs eyebrows lifted a bit in surprise. He hadnât expected all that, but then, he hadnât come into this with particularly high expectations. Heâd been certain that upon his return heâd find some shamble of a cocktail dinner with Elliot grinning expectantly â much like he was doing now. But instead of being slightly disappointed, Sandy was pleasantly surprised.
Having sampled each dessert, he found he preferred the crepe suzette, and not simply because of the presentation. But either, he decided, would be good enough for his clients.]
That strikes me as a cocktail dinner worthy of my guests. Youâve got the job, darling. Now we just have to go over the small detail of price.
[Sandy understood that the diner belonged to Elliot, and while he was sure the young man was massively proud, a cook with his skill shouldnât be wasting time on hamburgers and french fries.]
Oh, Iâm sure youâve done bang-up business with your usual fare, but if you served food like this in a more fitting venue, well, I think youâd be seeing even more of a profit.
[Elliot's grin grew.
No matter what anyone thought of him, how silly they imagined the daft guy who spent all day in the kitchen, Elliot hadn't gotten to be where he was, what he was without having a decent business sense.]Â
Three hundred gets you me and the food. Another two and I'll find you a wait staff for the evening.
Listen, Mr. McKenzie, sir, I came from nothing. A farm boy who should'a done something a bit more...traditional. But this diner? I worked hard to put my name on the door.
All I want is to feed people. And I get to do that.Â
Don't worry about me. I get on just fine.
crème de la crème || Sandy & Elliot
[Sandy took his time enjoying each, humming pleasantly as he swallowed down the beef wellington. It was certainly his favorite by far, though the other options Elliot had presented him with hadnât been too shabby.]
I think that a man who can cook as well as you do shouldnât be wasting his time on a place like this.Â
What do you mean? This is my place. What else would I be doing?
[Giving Sandy a small smile, Elliot brought out the third course. Dessert.
This one he was most proud of, if he was honest.]Â
Dark chocolate mousse with a raspberry reduction.Â
And...
[He set down the last plate, dramatically striking a match and setting the small bite on fire.]Â
Crepe Suzette en flambe.Â
[He stood back, arms folded, watching Sandy eagerly.] Â
Well? How's that strike you as a cocktail dinner?
World Spins Madly On || Victor and James
Victor accepted the ginger ale gratefully and took a moment or two to sip at it slowly. It did settle his stomach some, thankfully. âI donât know why you think you owe me so much. All I did was make you a job offer, and really it helps the Lombardi as a whole more than it helps you as an individual. I was just doing my job. You donât owe me anything.â
He realized he must have looked particularly tired if Elliot felt the need to insist Victor lay down. He had to admit that it didnât sound like a bad idea, considering that he definitely didnât want to go back out into the sunlight with his head still aching the way it was. Still, when he would think about putting his head down in a strangerâs bed, all he could think about was Roy Abraham and the bed they had shared the night before.Â
"I appreciate you thinking of me as a good man, I really do, but I donât think you understand what youâve gotten yourself involved in. Weâre out for justice, but itâs our own brand of it. We want to be in control. That means we donât always do nice things. The things we do are right for us, but those stories of shootouts and drug smuggling isnât made of rumors. I just need you to understand that. I need you to know that at some point we might ask you to do something not so savory. I warned you from the beginning that thereâs no going back⌠but you need to remember it. You donât owe me anything. I owe you really, for siding with us. After what happened⌠weâre going to need all the help we can get."
A frown creased his forehead; Elliot ducked his head, fingertip tracing along the wood of his counter. He wasn't sure what to say to that. Confusion settled in; disquiet and nerves and that familiar gnawing panic of what have I gotten myself into.
Elliot needed Victor to be good. He needed the Lombardis to be the good guys. He needed to not have thrown away his life to side with more of the darkness that was creeping over the streets of the city.
So he believed it. Despite what his common sense was telling him, despite what the truth might be, Elliot had to believe it.
Clap your hands to save the fairies and all that junk.
Swallowing hard, Elliot looked up at Victor, fingers threading together to hold so tightly his knuckles stood out white. "I'm just a guy who cooks at a diner," he murmured, searching Victor's eyes. "I'm nobody, really. I mean, I own this place but that's...that's nothing important. What kind of stuff could I even do?"
crème de la crème || Sandy & Elliot
[When Sandy walked in the door, heâd admittedly been expecting Elliot to be standing in the doorway naked. What he got, though, was about as far from his expectations as one couldâve gotten. With the lights turned down and the candles everywhere, it looked like heâd walked into some sort of boudoir, not a diner. He didnât dwell on the dinerâs new appearance for long, letting Elliot lead him to the table obviously meant for him.]
Canât say Iâve ever been a tasting quite like this one.
[And it was true. Most of the places heâd been to, while nice, hadnât gone to the effort of throwing a record on for his listening pleasure. It was a bit cheesy, honestly, but the additional effort didnât hurt. He just hoped that Elliot had put as much time into the food.
Looking down at the plates that were placed in front of him, Sandy nodded his head a bit. As far as appearances went, he was impressed. Couldnât look further from what Elliot usually put out. But looks were only half of it. He tried the pate first, chewing slowly as he let the flavors spread out over his tongue.
Not bad. Actually, it was very good. Beyond what heâd thought the little diner chef was capable of. Upon tasting the caviar, Sandy would have said he was well and truly impressed.]
Iâll take your suggestion under advisement. Youâre off to an excellent start. So, what comes next?
[Watching someone enjoy food he had prepared, something he had created with his own hands just for them, was probably the best experience of his life. Elliot watched Sandy eat, a smile hovering along his lips.
But of course, Sandy wasn't one to give everything away. Elliot hadn't expected anything different.
It did make him briefly wonder if Leon would enjoy this sort of thing.
...Probably not. Then again, cooking like this every day might get old.
Whisking away the dirty plates, Elliot brought out the next course.]Â
Individual, bite-sized beef wellington with a parsnip puree. A scallop on an endive salad. Or a slice of smoked cod with butter and caper sauce.
What do you think?
crème de la crème || Sandy & Elliot
A private tasting? You really know how to make a man feel special.
8Â oâ clock then. Donât disappoint me.
[By eight, Elliot was in the middle of a blissful chaos. The lights were dimmed, he had candles - well, whatever candles he could find - lit, and there was even a nice, white linen covering on one of his tables.
He'd closed up early and spent hours in the kitchen in a blur of cooking, crafting what he hoped would be the perfect meal.
When Sandy arrived, Elliot greeted him with a smile and a bow, leading him to the table.]Â
Now, of course, your guests will be mingling, dancing, drinking I assume. I can't replicate that. But I can...
[His smile broadened as he darted over to the corner, switching on his phonograph. Slow jazz slid out from the speaker and Elliot moved to the kitchen. The first two plates were placed in front of Sandy with a flourish.]Â
First course of appetizers will be chicken liver pate on toast and a caviar with blini and creme fraiche. Both will go nicely with a lighter wine, maybe, or even champagne.Â
A devious, pleased smirk had appeared on his lips. The pleasure of having reached orgasm was slowly being matched with the pleasure of having Elliot practically melting in his hands. How Elliot pulled at him, groaned and kissed at him was beyond satisfying. Leon, without realizing, had started rutting against Elliot. Even when he did notice, he didnât stop.
God, he loved hearing Elliot say his name like that, half-choked and needy. There werenât any words spilled in response to Elliotâs begging. Instead, he continued, pumping and slowly dragging his fingers up and down, circling his scrotum, teasing the head before giving it complete attention. With his lips, Leon continued to suck on Elliotâs neck, biting and nipping here and there. He wanted people to know that Elliot was his. Sure, the public would believe it to be the working of some girl, but Leon and Elliot would know.
When Elliot finished, Leon didnât. He was still touching and kissing for a moment more.
There would be marks on his neck. Unmistakable bruises, reddened patches left behind from Leon's teeth. Elliot really should pull away, he shouldn't allow that to continue. Except instead of stopping Leon, he found himself moaning, practically melting back into Leon with every bite.
He loved it. God help him, as much as he knew he shouldn't risk it, Elliot wanted more. The domination was such a goddamn turn on.
Elliot came with a quiet whimper, lower lip caught between his teeth, back arching up into Leon's hand. He stuttered a few more thrusts forward before he was sagging down, spent and shattered, breathing in heavy little pants.
"Jesus fuck."
Yes, that about summed it up.
crème de la crème || Sandy & Elliot
[Sandy couldnât help but chuckle a little. Getting a bit bold, wasnât he? It was admittedly pretty adorable, the way Elliot tried to take charge.
He hadnât given a verbal response about his capabilities in the kitchen though.
Questionable.]
I was thinking more along the lines of cocktails. Iâm always happy to give my guests the best, but I donât feel like a full-course meal is appropriate for this particular event.
So, have any ideas on a menu?
[Sandy wasnât the sort of man that was easy to distract when he was talking business, but since Elliot had so gracefully tossed in that second question, how could he ignore it?]
I didnât have any particular plans. Just working into the night, as usual. Why do you ask?
[Elliot had a thousand ideas, all at once, exploding across his brain like bursts of light. He followed them in a breathless tumble, fingers itching for his notebook. But to Sandy he just gave a wide grin, straightening up and nodding decisively.]Â
Fantastic. Be here at eight. I'll close early, give you a private tasting.
[He was already halfway to the kitchen, dreaming up the perfect menu. Sandy on a plate. Elliot turned, looking back at him, giving Sandy a wink.]Â
Trust me. You won't regret it.
World Spins Madly On || Victor and James
Victor offered a half smile and gave Elliot a gentle clap on the shoulder. âI appreciate the offer, but Iâm not a charity case yet. Iâll be all right. I will hold you to that dinner, thought maybe not today. Iâll try and come in later this week for a meal, but right now Iâm honestly too hungover to even eat what Iâve got.â
He took another swallow of his water, appreciating Elliotâs kindness. It was almost kind of nice to talk to someone so naive, even though he pitied him a little too. The way he looked at him and spoke as if Victor was a hero masquerading under the title of mobster⌠It made him feel better. Victor knew deep down that he wasnât nearly so good as Elliot claimed he was and that the only justice he sought out was his own. Elliot probably didnât even realize that the Lombardi had their own drug ring and had full intention of selling what they stole.
"I was doing what I had to do," he said. "I have a feeling a lot of people wouldnât think it was the right thing. Considering how badly it all went, I certainly donât think it was⌠but it was my plan, and my mistake, and I take responsibility for it."
"Doing the right thing doesn't always mean it turns out well." Elliot gave Victor a slight smile, absently cleaning off a few glasses. They hardly needed his attention, but he always found himself so nervous around Victor. It was nice to have something to do with his hands.
"Look, you showed up here even though you didn't have to. I'm just saying. There's a bed upstairs, it's nice and quiet, you could pass out for a few hours and no one would be the wiser."
An idea struck him and he turned to his cooler - one of the only places in town you could get ice for your drinks. He was pretty damn proud of it, to be honest. Some ginger ale was poured into a glass along with a good number of that precious ice and he slid the drink in front of Victor.
"Let me do something for a change," he said with a low smile. "I know you're anything but charity. It's just... I owe you. A lot. I'd like to pay some of that back."
[[Hearing the falter in his voice and watching that slip, clearly heâd gotten the hilarious reaction he wanted from his comment - not that he was even thinking the man had any secrets. He didnât even consider himself to be on the clock nor could he care less about one more crime right now with his stomach so empty.]]
Iâm jokinâ, Elliot, you donât have the face for a killer. Not crazy in the eyes and youâre too clean. Please, just call me Eddie, Iâm still the same bum bitchinâ about your coffee that I was ten minutes ago.
[[He offered up a reassuring shoulder clap, trying to set the young man at ease. No reason to rile up an innocent after all.]]
[Yeah, Elliot was just nervous. That wasn't going to go away. The chief of the whole damn police force was standing across his counter. What else was he supposed to be?
But he smiled, nodding at the shoulder clap, swallowing the jittery jolt in his stomach.]Â
Right, uh. You got it, Mr. Eddie, sir.
[...Mr. Eddie, sir. Jesus, he was an idiot.
Wrapping his apron around his waist, Elliot bent over to grab his favorite pan, assembling the ingredients for Eddie's breakfast.]Â
Have you ever had peach pancakes? I, uh. I could whip you up some with my homemade preserves. They're kind of a house specialty.
crème de la crème || Sandy & Elliot
[Eager to please, wasnât he? The observation brought a little smirk to Sandyâs face, but he didnât make comment.]
I was thinking something French. Maybe not escargot â donât see that going over too well â but Iâm sure you Americans wouldnât be too opposed to a croque-monsieur. Some foie gras might also be nice. And then something sweet to finish it all off. Perhaps a mousse of some sort?
But those are just some suggestions. Iâll leave all final decisions up to your culinary expertise.
[Sandy was curious to see how Elliot would respond to his requests. He had no idea what sort of education the young man had when it came to dishes of this sort â if he had any at all. But this would quickly determine whether Elliot was worth pursuing as a caterer, or if he was wasting his time.]
[A faint smile touched Elliot's lips and he ducked his head to hide it. His hand rubbed the back of his head and he tried, very hard, not to grin. Elliot might not be the most confident in the world around men like Sandy, but he knew food.
So he leaned on the counter, managing to keep his amusement in check.
Just... Overly pretentious French food with no thought given to the flow of the meal was not what Sandy wanted. Elliot knew that.
After all, that was part of what he did, right? Know what other people wanted, really wanted, before they realized it himself.]Â
Two questions.
One, do you want a full coursed dinner or cocktails?
And two, what are you doing tonight?
"Good," Leon hummed, wishing that he had the ability to purr in response to Elliotâs kisses. Surprisingly, his lips were soft and uncracked by the chilly, frost-biting air that lingered outside. It was even better as he was rocked against. Hell, if he had the energy to still get hard, he would have been.
Right now? Right now, this was about Elliot. Leon had received his allotted amount of time and attention. It was Elliotâs turn, even if it happened in the kitchen. âYes, I decided I wanted to spend the night, laying next to you, half tipsy and content.â More honest than he normally was, but he meant it.
His fingers and hand moved up and down, slowly at first and then with some speed, using the bit of Elliotâs precum as a sort of lube. Olive oil was readily available, he knew, especially in a cookâs kitchen, but he wasnât about to break contact to find it. Sucking on the skin of Elliotâs neck, Leon ran his thumb over his head.
Just the feel of Leon, solid and warm against his back, was enough to have Elliot's eyes half closed in bliss. Leon was taller than him, his arms wrapped around Elliot and they fit together so well. He'd never noticed fitting with someone like this.
Moaning quietly at the kisses along his neck, Elliot tipped his head to the side; his hand was curled into Leon's hair, pulling him closer, eyes fluttering shut. "That sounds--Â God." His voice stuttered out into a groan. Elliot leaned back against Leon, hips rocking up into Leon's hand, lower lip caught between his teeth.
It felt so damn good.Â
Just a handjob and yet Elliot was whimpering, half-stuttered gasps of Leon's name, halfway gone already. "Close," he mumbled, turning his head to catch his lips against the stubble of Leon's jaw. "Please."
Youâd make a little extra plus tips, its not a bad investment idea.
[[And if saving and investing was one thing he knew, Eddie knew it well. His love for money ran deep as the veins of crime in the city. Though his mind was thoroughly distracted as he watched Elliot tend to his coffee, giving him a well placed look and smile.]]
Not likely youâve seen, sâpleasure, Elliot. Police Chief Eddie Lincoln at your disservice. Want me to shoot her?
[[It was meant jokingly as he gave him a nudge, chuckling.]]
[Elliot certainly wasn't one to turn down sound business advice. In fact, he had every intention of talking it through further, of making some solid plans.Â
Until that bombshell dropped.
This was the chief of the police. Out of all the people in the world, that was who had walked through his door. And Elliot suddenly had a flash of guilt, a violent reminder of all the secrets he was keeping.
Shit. He had to play it cool. Couldn't give anything away.]Â
What? No! No, I don't... I don't shoot people. Ever. I mean, I obey the law. All of the laws.
[He fumbled a bit, nearly dropping the coffee pot, practically vibrating nerves.]Â
Uh. Can I get you anything, sir?
.
crème de la crème || Sandy & Elliot
[Sandy watched in amusement as the plate Elliot had been carrying clattered to the floor. Well, that was some welcome, wasnât it?]
Whatâs the matter, David? You look as if youâve seen a ghost.
[As much fun as it would be to toy around with Elliot, that wasnât why he was here. Business before pleasure, always.]
Anyway, I wanted to inquire about what culinary capabilities you possess? You see, Iâm throwing a little party and I need someone to cater. Havenât found anyone worth the money though. So tell me, can you make me something besides hamburgers? Because Iâm not much interested in serving diner food to an upscale crowd.
N-nope. Everything is fine.
[Christ, could he be any more clumsy? Elliot gave Sandy a short smile, fumbling to clean up the mess. By the time he got himself together, Sandy had apparently moved on to whatever purpose he'd had in coming into the diner.
Right. Okay. Business. Elliot could totally talk business.]Â
Catering? Sure! Â I mean, I can do anything you want.
[Now he was grinning, grabbing for a pencil and a pad of paper. Straddling the nearby stool, he eagerly began writing down some ideas.]Â
Tell me what you're looking for and I'll see what I can do. Maybe I can whip up some samples for you. I just got the most beautiful cod from my fishmonger.
Just like that, Leon had a frown on his face. "No, that's not what I meant," he argued, watching as Elliot clambered off of him. The warmth was suddenly gone and heading toward the kitchen. Which was exactly where Leon was now heading.
Or had been, initially, had he not tripped over his pants. That was quickly dealt with as he shuffled out of them and continued over to where Elliot was.
"No," he answered, pressing up against his back. "You know me -- coffee in the morning only, with very little sugar and cream. But that's besides the point. Well, sort of, I am kind of upset that you forgot I don't drink coffee at night." Leon had pushed his hand up Elliot's shirt and was now trailing down to his pants.
"Just because I don't want to fuck tonight doesn't mean I don't care about you and your," he paused to unzip Elliot's trousers, rubbing at the bulge beneath, "problems. Besides, I decided I wanted to spend the night."
Oh. Well, that was not something that Elliot had expected to happen. Not a reaction he'd thought was possible, honestly. But Leon was there, arms around his back, and before Elliot had time to protest he was being pulled in close. With a low sigh, Elliot turned his head, pressing kisses against Leon's throat.
"Are you a tea pers--Â oh." The words cut off into a quiet gasp as Leon's hand cupped his cock. Elliot's arm went up, his fingers curling tightly into Leon's hair as he breathed in a low, hungry moan.
"No coffee at night," he agreed, biting kisses along Leon's jaw. "I'll remember that."Â
He would. It was burned in his brain, now, along with the rough strength of Leon's fingers, the taste of him, the cinnamon tang of his scent. Elliot's hips rocked back against Leon as he buried another moan into his skin.
"You decided?" He was smiling, Elliot realized, lips curved up as he lightly nipped at Leon's ear. "How very forceful of you, Mr. Gray."
The Results of Letters
His breath was hot and he could feel it as he breathed against Elliot, and for a moment he stopped altogether in another attempt to calm down. God, the man was good at this. The kisses on his torso tickled a bit and then there was Elliot kissing him, which he eagerly returned and smiled through. âN-no,â he fumbled, correcting himself with a stronger reply, âNo.â
Leon swallowed before tipping Elliotâs face up to look at him. To just look and admire and smile and place a quick kiss on his lips. As the euphoria slowly disappeared, Realized and remembered that Elliot still hadnât finished, or hell, even been touched, he felt a bit guilty. âDo⌠do you want me to take care of that?â he muttered, running a free hand up Elliotâs back.
Leon seemed pretty content to keep Elliot at an arm's length. And that was fine. Hell, Elliot was the one who'd pointed out that this whole situation was temporary at best. Why would Leon care about anything but himself?
No one ever did.
Leaning in, kissing him, Elliot just smiled. "I think you made it pretty clear this isn't like that." Yeah, he'd have to go, uh, take care of himself in the bathroom, but that wasn't Leon's concern. Obviously.
Climbing off of Leon's lap, Elliot moved towards the kitchen. "Do you want some coffee before you go?"