Bacon: Icarus/Faith
“It’s not the end of the world.”
“It is when you try to cook bacon.” Icarus bit into a burnt piece of the rare commodity that Faith was ruining in the loft. The air was hazy with smoke. “Remind me again why you’re cooking in the first place?”
The Asian scoffed and gave up, tossing the pan into the sink and cutting off the flame. “I don’t know! I have a headache, I’m hungry, and the man who raised me is dead! So I’m stuck here running in circles with you! And I can think of a million things I’d rather do!”
Faith caught her breath and realized what she said because she saw the temporary and almost invisible hurt flash across the man’s face. “Icarus, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” He said softly. “I wouldn’t want to run with me either.”
Faith sighed, “I didn’t mean it like that. I just …”
“You weren’t the only one that lost a father figure.” Icarus admitted and stepped next to her, starting the flame again as he reached for the pan. “So stop acting like you’re alone here, because you’re not. You can talk to me, Faith.”
She tucked her hair behind her ear and watched him cook flawlessly, the meat sizzled precisely as it should’ve. She fetched some eggs and he took them with a kind grin, cracking them alongside the fragrant bacon.
The sun still hadn’t come up yet, but it was close. The sky was the most pale of all purples and she saw it reflect in his eyes when he glanced at her. “Noah told me you sucked at cooking so he always had to.”
Faith hummed, “Did he teach you?”
“He taught me a lot of things and I know I let most of it go to my head.”
“Damn right you did.” She smirked when he cut her a look.
“I’m sorry for that.” Icarus loaded the food onto plates. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you before I even knew you.”
Faith was in one of Icarus’ long white t-shirts, for the sake of comfort, not because she liked the way he smelled. But he smelled so nice. It fell mid-thigh and it was soft from overuse and sleeveless.
He himself, was shirtless for the first time and she noticed the small faint markings across his back as they sat on the window ledge with food in hand.
Icarus felt her stare, “I’ll tell you later.”
“You don’t have to. It’s your past.” She bit into the perfect crispy piece of bacon and groaned. “This is amazing.”
“I know.” He laughed when she slugged him lightly on the arm. “I’ll teach you if you’d like.”
Faith took a breath and nodded, “Yeah. I think I would like. And I could teach you how to have a better taste in sunglasses.”
She swung her legs back over the ledge and made a run for it when he came after her laughing a laugh she’d never heard before. He stood on the coffee table staring up at her as she scaled the ductwork above like a cat.
“You take that back.” He threatened.
“Or what? You’ll glare at me through those orange lenses of doom?” She dropped to her feet without a sound and walked a circle around him, quietly admiring his figure as he stood on display.
“No.” He stepped down from the table with an innocent shrug. “I’ll just burn the bacon.”
“Hm.” Faith crossed her arm in fake contemplation. “Fine. I take it back.”
Icarus smiled and they settled shoulder to shoulder as he cooked more of the savory meat on the stove as the sun rose, with Faith hanging on his every word.
She chewed on a piece and nearly couldn’t contain herself at the flavor. Bacon had always been a delicacy growing up on the rooftops. “Noah used to sneak me extra pieces onto my plate when we had company.”
Icarus watched her close her eyes and sigh at the memory, a faint grin lit up her face and he reached over to cup her jaw without thinking.
Her eyes flew open as he wiped a small drop of grease from the corner of her mouth. It did nothing but spread but he tried anyway.
She stared. It was all she could do as the feeling washed over her. A feeling that she hadn’t felt in years. The feeling of safety and comfort that came along with the tiny action.
It was such a small thing, his thumb brushing over her cheek but it lit a fire so massive, she didn’t know what to do other than release it.
She surged forward just as Icarus brought his other hand up and met her lips halfway in a messy clash that ended an hour later.
They fought against each other’s clothes, migrated across multiple surfaces and scared off Nomad when he stuck his head through one of the windows. He stole a plate of food and ran off screaming.
Icarus was cleaning up the unruly mess they made across the safe house when his orange glasses sitting on a window sill caught his eye.
He’d been with these things for so long he forgot where he even got them. The color was rather discerning. He smiled to himself and glanced back at the sleeping fury on the sofa beneath the thin sheets they had pulled from the bunks.
He watched her breathe and thought about what he was more attached to and he didn’t feel any remorse when he tossed the orange frames out of the window.
Icarus stepped soundlessly back over to his other option and decided that her lips and everything attached to them was worth more than a pair of sunglasses that had more scratches than he did.