[thenewburymedal]

willow-balcoin​:

Willow, in her desire to keep things as normal as possible for herself, had invited herself over to Aiden’s when she’d caught wind of him having a day off. She was such a great supervisor, after all. “That looks like cough syrup,” she told him, surveying the contents of the tray. “I say go for it. I mean, I wish we were dying your hair, but this’ll do.”

“Even worse. I was aiming for a cherry wood.” His head sank in defeat. Somehow, the idea that perhaps his eyes were deceiving him was preferable to the thought that he’d been so misled by the stain he’d bought. “Hey, I never said no to hair dye” Aiden said. “I said no to bleach.” A knowing smile setting in on his face. He was well aware how poorly any color would stick to hair as dark as his.

[thenewburymedal]

“Oh no,” Aiden muttered, looking down at the deck stain he poured out into the painting tray. What had been labeled as cherry wood was looking a lot more cherry candy color. After spending all day, on one of his few days off, cleaning and sanding the deck, the last thing he wanted was to have to make yet another run to the hardware store. “Be real with me, I’m about to paint my deck primary school red, aren’t I?” he said, holding out the tray.

[thenewburymedal]

vsaugis‌:

“I would say she leans towards Anti-, she explains it better obviously. I think her biggest gripe, especially from our parents’ generation, is how their argument for Pro-Planet is rooted in emotional attachment versus objectivity. Personally, I think it’s a semantic issue. Scientists did a terrible job of defining what constitutes a planet,” Tristan explained, used to his family members getting intense about their passions. Sure, some of their interests were rather niche but the dinner conversations were always engaging and entertaining. “Next time, if she calls me while I’m with you, I’ll give you the opportunity to ask her. I think her first love is space.”

“I guess. Leather pants might be overkill once New York starts to heat up again,” he pointed out with a poorly hidden smirk. While he knew his grandparents were fairly lax about sex, he still wanted to be careful in case someone walked in. Additionally, he and Raf were at a disadvantage since the first floor was open concept. Though Tristan was surprised nobody had ‘accidentally’ walked in on them yet. He reasoned Saffron was still out running her own errand, but he had expected his grandmother at least to show up by now. Seeing Raf starting to blush was a sight to behold. “How are you so damn cute?” he smiled.  There was no stopping the grin that grew across his face once he heard Raf reciprocated his sentiments. “Terrible food isn’t going to ruin the night. They’ll be impressed by how much effort we put into this meal. You know some people our age are limited to making pasta or poorly seasoned tacos. Come on, my grandma wasn’t born with an encyclopedic knowledge on cooking. But yes as your over the moon boyfriend, I’ll remind you about the timer,” he assured his boyfriend before he checked the crust mixture again. Somehow, he had managed to successfully stir the crust - a relief since he didn’t want another variable for Raf to worry about tonight. Tristan set the bowl containing the crust on the counter before walking over to the cabinet to grab the tart pan. “Hey, Raf? How’s the filling? When you’re done, could you help me with pressing the crust into the pan?” he asked sheepishly. While he waited for him, Tristan started to prepare the raisins for the salad. He combined the raisins and vinegar in a new bowl before setting the bowl aside to give the raisin time to soften. After he set the timer on his phone for fifteen minutes, he saw that the tart was ready to be constructed. Always one for physical affection, Tristan quickly kissed Raf on the cheek before Raf started to press the crust into the pan. He had wanted to kiss him earlier to assure everything would be fine, but refrained because Raf had still needed to make the tart filling. If Raf could endure his best friend roasting him about their relationship, then he would do the same if his family walked in this very moment. Before pulling away, he tilted his head up to whisper in his ear, “I think the world of you, Raf. Each day, I think I have you figured out and you manage to surprise me again. You’re irreplaceable.” His left hand reached over to give his ass a quick squeeze, “And if we didn’t have a dinner to cook and weren’t on red alert, I would show you just how much I adore you.” Maybe it was overkill, but Tristan understood how tonight could be stressful for Raf and he wanted to do his part to be as helpful as possible. 

“Interesting” Raf remarked. With the definition change that had excluded Pluto as a planet, it shouldn’t have surprised him that the argument was primarily one on semantics. Especially when surrounded by non-astrophysicists, an argument on definition semantics was likely one of the easiest diatribes to launch on at a party. “I might take you up on that”

“I never said I was wearing it outside.” Raf responded, raising his eyebrows as he looked over at Tristan, an almost serious look on his face, only betrayed by his mouth beginning to smirk, unable to keep any sort of pretense of seriousness, the rest of his facade quickly fell as well, the smile taking over once again. Raf shook his head at Tristan’s question. Even if it was mainly rhetorical, Raf wasn’t sure he knew how else to respond in that moment, his attention pulled away by the heat in his cheeks rivaling his determination to remain focused. “We’re all just one burned dish away from resorting to pasta,” Raf responded, mainly as a joke. He was sure if he ruined something, based on the quick peaks he’d had into the Saugis grandparents’ fridge, they could probably find ingredients to whip something else up. That is, if the ingredients weren’t being saved for another dish. They could make it work. “Sure, one second,” Raf said, mixing the filling just one or two more times before he let the rubber spatula rest on the edge of the bowl. Raf shifted over to where Tristan had worked on the crust and where the pan was on the counter. As if Tristan’s kind words weren’t enough, Tristan’s kiss on the cheek made some of his smile escape from Raf’s biting down. He turned to look at Tristan, his smile fully unfurled now. He turned back to the crust, scooping the dough into the pan and beginning to work it with his hands to form a fairly even coating of the pan. He’d only begun pressing it out briefly when he felt Tristan’s breath on his ear and a few moments later, hearing his compliments begin to flood his mind. Raf could barely figure out how to function, let alone how to respond. Everything inside him wanted to turn around and kiss Tristan until the exploding feeling in his chest and the butterflies in his stomach calmed down. But he had to get this crust going, and he was still trying to behave himself. So he continued to press it out with his hands, his eyes soft, even if he couldn’t look at Tristan right then. 

“Thank you,” Raf said, his tone perhaps even quieter, not that he needed to speak loudly to be heard with Tristan so close. “I-I’m tongue-tied right now.” Raf paused, trying to come up with even a semblance of a response that mimicked the the deeply rooted feeling in his chest or the emotions rushing through his head. He reached over for one of the measuring cups that had a flat base and began pressing it in to the crust a few times before he turned, able to piece together at least part of it. “You make me feel so deeply seen in a way I’m not familiar with outside of writing. I feel like every day I’m still just processing it.” Raf continued pressing out the crust, pausing every few seconds and making minute adjustments until he deemed it right. “I’ll remember this for later,” he said, still quiet, but with his neutral tone, even if someone had walked in, Raf wouldn’t have been too embarrassed to be overheard. He then grabbed the filling and began filling the tart, scraping the sides of the bowl and then running the spatula over the top to ensure an even filling before he turned to Tristan. “Go put this in the fridge before I get too distracted”

[thenewburymedal]

vsaugis‌:

“Oh, trust me it would be fun.  I wish Char was here tonight though, you should hear her talk about Pluto when she’s tipsy,” he laughed. However, at the same time, Tristan was glad his entire family wasn’t in town this weekend. The last thing he wanted was for Raf to start feeling overwhelmed by everyone. Besides, Raf had met his mother several times already. And he knew for a fact his mother approved of Raf. He wished Saffron hadn’t shared her reasoning behind it, but also at least their mother wasn’t around to embarrass him tonight.

Tristan knew the mystery of the second dinner wouldn’t keep Raf entertained the entire two months he was in the cast, but it was better than nothing. He recognized he wasn’t perfect, but he wouldn’t consider himself dull either. Yet the seed of doubt had already been planted in his mind as he imagined what the next couple of weeks would be like for him and his boyfriend. Maybe he had overdelivered last summer, because the upcoming weeks looked like it was going to be a downgrade. Raf was one of the most understanding people he ever dated, but he wouldn’t fault him either if he became bored of Tristan. “I promise my motives are pure and innocent,” he teased, eager to prove he could still be fun. While house parties were a dime a dozen in Rosewood, he understood they would be going out far less than before. Of course, none of their plans for the spring had been set in stone and they could still do some of them. However, this only made him feel like a burden.

“That’s what I said. It’s not like I burn the butter,” he said. Sometimes he wondered if Saffron picked fights with him just for the sake of fighting with him. “Wow, I don’t know how I will be able to contain myself,” he said, pretending to fan himself at the thought. How attracted he was to Raf wasn’t a secret between them. However, what he enjoyed most was their banter, which always felt uniquely theirs. “You could also break out the Valentine’s Day gift,” he suggested shamelessly, not skipping a beat. Some people needed to absolutely focus when they were cooking, but he always found it easier when he had someone to talk as he worked. In his eyes, cooking was a social activity. Food was meant to be shared after all. “You don’t have anything to worry about, because everything will go smoothly,” he promised before he stopped stirring the crust mixture. “You’re amazing and this dinner will be equally amazing. My family would be fools if they couldn’t see that. Regardless of what happens, nothing is going to change how I feel about you. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been in a relationship,” he assured. He loved his family, but their approval had never been a dealbreaker for his relationships. Besides, he knew for a fact Raf was leagues better than some of the people his family members dated. He knew more than he ever wanted to know about his mother’s dating history because of a bored little sister. 

“Is she Pro- or Anti-?” Raf asked. He was surprised that her drunk rambling of choice was Pluto. He shouldn’t have been surprised, given her career field, but even with that in consideration, it surprised him that he actually vaguely knew of it. Pluto hit the sweet spot of unexpected for it’s oddness and plainness. If he did well enough tonight, he told himself, he’d probably have the opportunity to hear the rant one day.

“I don’t believe that for a second,” Raf responded, shaking his head as he smiled at Tristan’s insistence. Tristan? Pure and Innocent? Raf wasn’t sure anyone had believed that for years. And he wouldn’t have it any other way. He liked the mischief Tristan seemed to find himself in, the glint in his eyes when he had a “bad” idea. It made things fun. In the early days of their...however you would’ve referred to their dynamic, it was part of what had kept Raf coming back and interested. Amongst many other factors.

“If you were burning the butter, I’d have a different response altogether.” Raf wasn’t sure he’d seen anyone do that in years, though. It was hardly even a consideration to him, given how often he’d melted butter in a microwave with no bad side effects. “So, the leather version of a Canadian Tuxedo?” Raf asked, raising an eyebrow. Was it slightly facetious to imply that was what Tristan was suggesting? Sure, but the concept was too funny to ignore. Besides, in Tristan’s grandmother’s house, he was attempting to keep himself from dipping into any R-rated material. Raf felt lucky he had something else to look at, as he was measuring out the almond extract, when he heard Tristan say it was the happiest he’d ever been in a relationship. Otherwise, Raf wouldn’t’ve known what to do with himself. With a purpose, at least he was looking away as he felt his cheeks begin to burn. He bit on the inside of his lip, trying to stop himself from full on grinning, but the ends of his lips were twisting upwards anyway. “I’m really happy, too,” Raf said, his voice a little quieter than the joking bravado he’d had earlier. “Like, stupid happy. Like I can’t remember the last time I felt this good. And I don’t want a burnt entree or overdressed salad to ruin that.” It was probably dumb to think that a dish would ruin what they had. Even taking into account the Saugis family’s passion for food, it was perhaps a little much. There was more to unpack in those emotions, but now, when he still the majority of the meal still left to cook, didn’t feel like the right time to delve in. “So, don’t let me forget to set a timer, okay?” Raf said, trying not to let himself wallow in the anxiety too much, or perhaps even more dangerous to their goals for the evening, the warmth of Tristan’s affections.

[thenewburymedal]

vsaugis‌:

“Yeah , you could say that ,” Tristan agreed before checking the fridge for champagne first. Knowing his grandparents, there was normally a bottle ready to be served. “Are you giving me permission to get my family wasted?” he joked, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. While he didn’t think his family was stuffy, he did love how they lose their ability to filter when drunk. 

“In due time,” he replied cryptically, taking a page out of Tasha’s book. He was going to need time to think everything through before he executed his vision. Normally, he would call his grandmother to ask for ideas since she was so well-versed, but now he had second thoughts after what happened the first time. At least, he had an ample amount of  time to get the dinner as perfect as possible for Raf. Breaking his right hand while skiing had been an unexpected burden to place on Raf , though his boyfriend hadn’t voiced any complaints yet. Having a boyfriend who was stuck in a cast for two months couldn’t be fun for him, especially with the weather finally starting to warm up in New York. Obviously there were still things for them to do once they’re back, but at least in Rosewood he had his family to support him. The change in scenery had been good for him. While he also had a support system back in NYC, it wasn’t the same for Tristan. He wasn’t much of a homebody and was already dreading having to work from home. “You know this is only giving me more motivation to make their drinks extra strong,” he joked, brushing aside his previous negative thoughts. There was a bigger challenge to tackle in the present anyways. 

“Cool, just checking,” he replied, knowing Raf had more experience baking than him from his family’s Sunday tradition. He put the butters in a microwave-safe glass bowl before setting them in the microwave for twenty seconds. Using the measuring cups, he then measured out the graham cracker crumbs and flour for the crust. “You know I didn’t think I would be dating such a rebel. It makes you a tad bit hotter,” he teased Raf as he stirred together the graham cracker crumbs, flour, and the butters. Admittedly, using one hand to stir the mixture was expectedly harder than when he had two hands but the crumbs were starting to moisten. Tristan was in the middle of stirring when he heard the worry in Raf’s voice which caused him to pause. “Yeah, they do. I would had said something earlier if there was a problem. She’s not here, but it’s actually Charlotte’s favorite,” he affirmed, surprised by his question. “Is everything okay, babe?” It’s a little late now to change plans,” he asked lightheartedly.  

“It could be fun,” Raf said with a shrug, chuckling at Tristan’s suggestion. It was a bold move, attempting to have a family dinner while wasted, but it wouldn’t have been the oddest thing they’d done. “If anyone gets too drunk, I’ll just remind them you made the drinks,” He joked, a cheeky smile on his face in response. 

“A mystery, ooh,” Raf remarked, raising his eyebrows to highlight the mystery as his lips puckered to make an ‘o’ to highlight the intrigue of it all. “You know I love a good puzzle.” Even if he’d been the one to originally come up with the core structure of the dinner, there’d been so many surprises that night, from just how many courses Tristan made, to what foods he’d chosen, to the sex afterwards. A second version, Raf wasn’t sure he’d know what to expect, especially if Tristan was trying to use it to surprise him. Just as Tristan had time to figure out his plan, Raf had just as much time to theorize what it could be. Maybe the dinner as a goal post for getting the cast off would help the time pass faster for Tristan. It could be helpful, potentially. It was hard to see Tristan struggle through daily tasks. And more so than that, to notice the small tics of frustration that he didn’t notice before. Really, that was what made Raf so eager to help Tristan, it was the distress the injury seemed to cause far more than the injury itself. “At this rate, it sounds like you’re just going to be serving them all straight rum.”

"As long as it’s short intervals, there isn’t really a problem with microwave, in my experience.” He was sure someone could tell him that the stove would be slightly different, but when they were already making a meal so large, Raf didn’t see a point in dirtying an extra pot, especially when he wasn’t sure how many they had in their disposal. “When we get back to New York, remind me to break out my leather jacket,” he joked back. Though, if Tristan asked for it, Raf probably would’ve worn it over a few times. “Yeah, I’m good.” Raf nodded. This situations wasn’t exactly one he’d been in before. He knew the Saugis family, it wasn’t like this was the first time he was meeting them, but there were still some tightness in his chest, a pressure he felt especially breathing out. Even if it wasn’t anywhere close to a first impression, Raf still wanted to make the meal go right. “I just want this to go right,” he confessed, “and I don’t want a menu choice to mess it up. Just...covering all my bases.”

[thenewburymedal]

vsaugis‌:

“Let’s see…it’s rum, mint leaves, bitters, simple syrup, and champagne. Oh and lime juice,” he listed off the ingredients. His grandfather was the one who introduced him to the cocktail, so creating the cocktail tonight seem fitting. “I’ll probably look up a recipe, closer to dinner. Last thing we need is to get everyone drunk before dessert,” he laughed as he checked the fridge for limes. Though he doubted his grandparents would be upset if their drinks were too strong.

“It’s a date,” he smiled. Although he hadn’t verbalized it yet, Tristan was already counting down to the day when his cast would come off. How sensitive Raf was being about his injury was sweet. He had understood it was just because he was concerned about him, but Tristan wished he could assure his boyfriend nothing changed even though they both know that wasn’t true. “Plus this gives me time to plan and surprise you,” he pointed out, attempting to focus on the sliver lining. Admittedly, Tristan enjoyed seeing more of Raf during the week. He didn’t have a problem asking for help, but even so he recognized Raf was doing more than he had to. Hell, Tristan’s roommate and friends had offered to check in on him so Raf didn’t have to make the long commute. All in all, he already knew he wanted to do something special for Raf in June to show his gratitude. “I’ll leave my windows unlocked for you then,” he said after checking if the hallways were clear. Sneaking around was fun and he understood they had to be efficient with their time when in Rosewood, so he had no qualms about sneaking Raf in. However he still rather avoid having an awkward conversation with his grandparents or even worse-his mother. 

“I’ll ask if I need help” he assured with a nod before he grabbed the butter and almond butter. “Are you going to call me a savage if I microwave the butter? Saffron prefers using the stove so she’s always giving me shit” he asked out of curiosity. Saffron was the self-proclaimed baker of the family. Though to be fair, she had learned everything from their grandmother and Tristan’s baking definitely wasn’t as refined as his sister. “This is a dealbreaker for me, babe,” he added with a grin, clearly joking. “The cabinet above the microwave,” he answered.

“Oh, so it’s like a dressed-up mojito,” Raf reasoned. Almost all the ingredients sounded the same, only with champagne instead of soda water, and with bitters thrown in. “Yeah, that could definitely work.” With the citrus and the mint, the lighter cocktail seemed like it could fit well. Mint and lamb was also a classic combination. “I’m sure it’ll be great, even if you go off-book.”

“Surprise me?” Raf asked, his nose wrinkling as a quizzical smile blossomed on his face. “Are you going to try to outdo yourself last time? Go for 2 desserts or 2 entrees this time?” He hadn’t yet connected the dots that their next great feast, if one could call it that, would partially be a thank you. Sure, it was pretty apparent to him, even through the brief time Tristan had been in the cast that it was difficult for his boyfriend to feel so helpless. It definitely didn’t help that Tristan had broken his dominant hand. He probably didn’t need as much help as Raf was offering, but knowing there was nothing he could do about the situation, it felt like the least Raf could do to help out and at least make life a little less frustrating and difficult. It had felt like an expected response to him. Why wouldn’t he do what he could to make his boyfriend’s life more manageable? Raf smile only grew, fully blooming into a grin, at Tristan mentioning leaving the window unlocked for him. So he was going to be sneaking in. Before his comment, Raf could’ve seen himself inviting Tristan to his hotel room, as he had a few other times over this trip, maybe invited him out for a drive, or even just taking a walk after dinner. Raf couldn’t say he’d ever snuck in to see a boyfriend before “Just text me the all-clear.”

“For melting butter?” Raf asked, his eyebrows raised and his lips settled into a bemused smile. “No, I don’t care.” Raf shook his head. It hadn’t even occurred to him that that was something to have a disagreement about. From what he’d learned about the Saugis family and the value they placed in food, he shouldn’t have been surprised, though. Raf nodded, turning around. The cabinets above the microwave weren’t so tall that he couldn’t reach, but certainly required a little bit of stretching. He opened the cabinets, leaning back to spot the measuring cups and spoons. Stepping forward again, rocking up slightly on his toes, he reached up, grabbing the cups in one hand and spoons in the other. Raf figured they’d probably end up using most of them, and left the stack down, even after picking out the cups and spoons he needed for the filling. He’d begun calmly measuring out the ingredients for the filling when he froze for a second, a pang of worry struck him. “Wait, I could’ve sworn we’ve been over this, your family does like Mediterranean food, right?” 

[thenewburymedal]

vsaugis‌:

“Summer. Moscow Mules have always been more of a summer drink in my opinion. It’s almost mint julep season so that’s an option. I don’t know a recipe, but I could wing it,” Tristan suggested. He was sure his grandparents didn’t care about if a cocktail was in-season, but it did matter to Tristan. “Ever had an Old Cuban before?” he added once he remembered the bottle of rum Charlotte got his grandfather for Christmas. While he was aware of the additional work Raf had to do the previous night, Tristan still consider the act to be touching. It meant a lot to him knowing how serious Raf was about tonight even though tonight was supposed to be a casual family dinner. Plus there was something hot about how Ra set his mind on something. “No, I told them I wanted to cook you dinner because our original plans for the weekend were ruined by the snowstorm,” he replied. Fortunately, he had an actual snowstorm as an excuse. Though Tristan hadn’t expected to receive such detail instructions from his grandmother, but he was proud of the dishes he cooked that night.  “We had fun that night and should do it again sometimes,” he admitted. That dinner had been the hardest he ever pushed himself in the kitchen and it had been worth it. “All parts of it,” he added with a cheeky grin to emphasize his point. His happiness in his relationship with Raf was no secret. Each of his relationships was unique in their own rights, but he recognized what he had with Raf was special. It wasn’t often for him to find someone who matched him as well as Raf did. “You can prove it to me later tonight,” he smirked before returning his attention back to the task at hand. “Sounds like a plan. You can start on the filling while I prep the crust for the tart. We can add the strawberries closer to dinner,” he nodded before he opened the kitchen cabinet for two bowls for them to use. 

“Oh,” Raf said, laughing at his own misunderstanding, “I thought you were going to say something like 7 o’clock. I get the summer connection, though.” He shook his head, primarily at himself. “I don’t know, what’s in it?” He’d had a Cuba libre before, he knew that. And throughout college he’d had plenty of different combinations of liquors, though he couldn’t be sure any of them were an Old Cuban. “Go with whatever you think would play well off the dishes.” Raf was fairly certain he would’ve liked whatever Tristan threw together, he wasn’t particularly picky when it came to alcohol. And he wasn’t the person they were trying to impress that evening. 

Raf hadn’t thought much about the effort he’d put into the meal. His father passed by, asking what he was making and what the special occasion was. But Raf was pretty sure that was only because he wanted some himself. And Agot had made some teasing remarks about what it meant, but with how much Raf had heard from A2D2 and Daphne prior to even dating Tristan, it had barely fazed him. Raf had been so focused on trying to make sure he- they made something good for the family, the time it had taken or the implications behind it hadn’t even occurred to him.

Raf grinned, his smile matching Tristan’s at the suggestion. He had to bite his tongue, deeming his immediate response too inappropriate to say in his family’s house. “We could make that happen,” Raf’s grin shrank a little as he tried to temper it.  “Maybe some time this summer.” It felt like a more delicate way to phrase his concerns. Raf didn’t want to harp on it too much, but not until Tristan’s hand was feeling better. He didn’t want to risk any further injury or to see Tristan struggle any more than necessary. Maybe it was in the proximity to their other conversation of the smirk that lit up Tristan’s face, but regardless, the invitation, no, challenge lit up something in Raf’s chest. “Oh, I will.” It was the safest way he could think of phrasing it. He could elaborate on it later that evening.

“Let me know if you need any help molding the crust.” Raf raised his eyebrows as he looked over at Tristan, as if warning him. He knew that his boyfriend probably wouldn’t want to ask for help. But forming a crust single-handed seemed even more than he could take on. Raf reached over to pick out one of the bowls for the filling. He began picking through the ingredients they’d unloaded from the shopping bags, grabbing the mascarpone, sugar, vanilla bean paste, and almond extract. “Measuring cups and spoons?” Raf asked, his thumb pointed at the cabinets behind him.

[thenewburymedal]

kirbydnn‌:

 wind-in-the-willow-balcoin‌:

Daphne raised her drink, agreeing that Aiden’s spelling sounded good to her. As long as it read like it sounded, she figured the point would be theirs. Her academic sense of competitiveness was a little more relaxed than the other two though, who liked to mull over the details while she was more of a shoot your shot and don’t give yourself time to second guess kind of person. Even if they got this one wrong she knew they’d be able to make up for it later. They’d been coming to the trivia nights for long enough that they recognised most of the regulars, and knew who they were generally ahead of. “I’m feeling good, boys. I think we might have a win on our hands tonight.”

“I’m good with six points. It’s still early and we can make up for any points lost during the bonus rounds,” he pointed out before checking the menu for any deals on food. Normally, he avoided eating out, but he tended to indulge whenever he was in Rosewood. Nachos sounded good especially since he hadn’t ate anything today. “I think we have a strong chance tonight. When I was talking to Kat, the bartender, I noticed that the team by the bar were already wasted. See the girl in the yellow top? She mixed up Argentina and Afghanistan and her team was going off,” he commented, unable to hide his smirk.  As they waited for the announcer to finish collecting responses, A2D2 saw his opening. “Speaking of Kat, she mentioned her buddy, Keith, is single,” he added, reviving an earlier conversation they had about setting up Daphne’s mom with someone. He needed a new project-more like distraction, since Raf technically wasn’t a fool anymore. “He’s a vet.”

“Anything good?” Raf asked as he saw A2D2 pick out the menu. Raf wouldn’t call himself starving, but he could’ve gone for some food to share. Especially if it was going to take a half an hour or so to get out of the kitchen. “Let’s hope she’s the team’s geography expert,” Raf remarked, a smaller smirk appearing, almost mirroring A2D2′s. He glanced over towards the bar as he took a drink from his pint, trying to look inconspicuous. He couldn’t look too long, his eyes looking over to scope out the team only for a second or two before back to his own team. “Vet and single isn’t enough, do we know anything else about him?” Raf asked, furrowing his brow. If they were going to go out on a limb to try and suggest a date for Daphne’s mom, he wasn’t going to cosign just anyone. 

[thenewburymedal]

vsaugis‌:

“Hmm,” he started, reviewing the cocktails he did know how to make. Pairing wine with the lamb would been easier, but cocktails added complexity to the meal. Plus, creating cocktails was something he could do with only one hand. Despite Raf’s assurance, Tristan didn’t feel completely great about not being able to help him as much as he normally could. “It’s too early for a Moscow Mule, but I think a mint cocktail would work,” he replied, taking the ingredients out of the grocery bag. He wouldn’t consider himself a mixologist, but he and his roommate dabbled enough with making cocktails for him to have a fair idea on what worked together and what didn’t. “It’s nothing bad. Cooking food in general is a big deal for my family. Like you should had seen the group chat, when Charlotte created the perfect intimation of my grandma’s stew,” he started to explain as he folded the paper grocery bags for his grandma to use later. “So when they heard I was cooking you dinner, they started to dial up their assumptions about us. They like to think things deeper than they are, so be prepared for questions. Though I think it’s also because some of them are bored despite having busy lives of their own,” he said with a warm smile. He knew his family didn’t have ill intent, but this was unknown land for him. This was the first time some of his family members even showed interest in who he was dating. “What matters tonight is they know I’m crazy about you and we’re going to impress all of them,” he affirmed before bending over the counter to kiss Raf. 

“What’s the ideal time for a Moscow mule?” Raf asked, raising an eyebrow. He wasn’t sure why a mint cocktail would be more appropriate than a ginger and lime one, but he trusted Tristan to make the right choice. Raf pulled out the lamb, which as opposed to the other ingredients, still wrapped in their store packaging, it was in a ziploc bag, surrounded by the braising liquid Raf had prepared it in earlier that day. It was thoroughly chilled by now, most of the preparation done on the lamb. He placed it closer to the stove, as opposed to the other ingredients, which were on the kitchen island so far. “Do they know you were only cooking for me because of a bet?” Raf asked, amused at the whole concept. When he’d originally proposed the concept, he hadn’t realized the implications it would have, both for the evening and for how the Saugis family perceived their relationship. ‘Crazy about you’. Raf grinned at Tristan’s response. It had felt like everything was going well. If anyone had asked him, he would’ve told them as such. But there was a magic infused into the words, hearing it from Tristan’s lips. The smile lingered on Raf’s lips, even after kissing Tristan. “I think we can manage that.” If they didn’t have a full meal to prepare and a whole dinner ahead of them, Raf easily could’ve dwelled on it. He probably would later on that night, but now, he still had a task in front of him. “I’m crazy about you, too, by the way,” Raf said, breaking from his own focus once more. “So, I’m thinking we start the dessert first, so we can get it chilling. Then, tzaziki sauce, since it’s the least time-sensitive. Then, get the raisins going for the tomato salad, maybe the onions for the herb salad, then get the meat going?” Raf looked upwards as he tried mentally calculating all of the timings for the dishes he was trying to make. He knew all of them obviously couldn’t be ready at the exact same time, but he hoped, at the very least, he could get them ready around the same time, so they’d all be relatively fresh for serving.

[thenewburymedal]

vsaugis‌:

“I still have a working arm. At least, let me help you with the bags,” he offered, noticing the grocery bags in Raf’s hands. Tristan wasn’t nervous about tonight, more so he was anticipating  his family to find ways to meddle. The kitchen was his grandmother’s domain after all. Thankfully, it was only his grandparents, Saffron, and him at the house this week. He didn’t know what he would do if his mother and Charlotte were here as well. Though he wouldn’t be surprised if someone updated them already from the moment Raf was waiting outride. He didn’t think tonight was a disaster, but he did feel some pressure from the expectations of his family. Today wasn’t the first time his family met Raf or even the first time he introduced them to a significant other. However, in true Raf fashion, he managed to be an exception. Tristan could never forget how close his family was with Raf’s. “I know we’ll have a great time. Good food and drinks might as well be this family’s kryptonite,” he affirmed as he led Raf into the kitchen, his favorite room of the house. “It’s just some of them already have these preconceived ideas about us in their head. Remember the massive dinner I made for you? I was ambushed with questions by my mom and Char the next day,” he explained. His injury had given him more time at home, causing him to grow introspective. Today felt a little surreal, compared to where he was this day last year. 

“Here,” Raf said, stepping out the door to pick up a few of the bags he’d left on the porch, and slipping them into Tristan’s one good hand. “Shit, you better start brainstorming drinks, then. I’ve got nothing planned.” There was a smile on his face as he said it, but Raf hadn’t really stopped to think about drinks to complement the meal. Even if he had, Raf wasn’t sure his palate was sophisticated enough to choose the right one. As they entered the kitchen, Raf set down his grocery bags on the counter, beginning to take out and organize the ingredients he’d gotten for dinner. “So, what image of us am I trying to live up to?” Raf asked, cocking an eyebrow. He remembered the meal Tristan was talking about and the circumstances surrounding it. He was fairly certain they wouldn’t know the whole context, or at least, he certainly hoped they didn’t. He also remembered Tristan mentioning that he’d told his family that he was cooking a meal for them, but Raf wasn’t quite sure what implications that might have to the Saugis family.

[thenewburymedal]

lanasantos-newbury‌:

Now wishing to see what it had been that piqued his interest enough to drag her there, she pointed her nose at the direction he gestured at. Agot noted the amount of traffic going that direction and decided it was the right one. “Let’s follow the crowd,” she directed, although she was already on her merry way down the familiar path to the back of the museum. How true it was that special exhibits were usually put up there, she could neither confirm nor deny. The lot she knew about the museum were placed in its architecture and basic floor plan—enough, perhaps, to stage a heist, if she wanted to—and little on how they planned special exhibits. “I don’t think they necessarily put up the special exhibits there. It might different, depending on what the exhibit is about,” she said, before turning round the corner. It seemed he was right—they were both right—according to large signage standing before them and the crowd that formed around the exhibit. “Bingo,” she sang, smiling at her brother.

His talk about the bourgeoisie and the effect they had on what survived history boggled her mind—like a toddler was being spoken to about quantum physics—although it barely touched the surface of the whole philosophy. She had to admit her interest in art was a rather shallow one, reserved for the fun-ner parts of it, rather than its gritty political side. Very much on the contrary to her brother, she knew, who dabbled in politics and political theory more than she. Nonetheless, she answered him, with an earnestness quite rare coming from her. “I think social media has changed the landscape of art and access to it has sufficiently widened,” she said. “That makes a difference to who survives oblivion, right? It has to.” She tilted her head, for once considering her words. “Or they’re just another set of elites, since not everyone has access to social media.”

Immersing herself in the exhibit only reminded her of her own upcoming junior final. It wasn’t the same as her thesis—only a year away from now—but, all the same, it gave her the nerves. The panel was a harsh one, and though she’s done more critiques now, it hasn’t taken away the frightening quality of a critique and facing a panel so indifferent she often wondered why they bothered to show up. “This one really is a bit on the nose, isn’t it?” she remarked, looking beside her, and belatedly realizing she had lost her brother. She didn’t even realize she had wandered away, again. Going round the exhibit, she tried to find Raf. It took three more turns until, finally, she spotted his familiar back. There were a lot more people than she expected. “Hey,” she whispered loudly, intending to surprise him. “Lost you there, for a second. What do you think of the exhibit?” she asked, as if it was her own.

Raf followed Agot, and in turn, the crowd, as they meandered past some of the more familiar exhibits towards what was hopefully the digital art exhibit. Truthfully, Raf hadn't seen many digital art exhibits. At least, not like the pictures of this one that he'd seen online. Of course, he'd seen the short films that were played at some museums. And he'd seen 3D printed pieces. And he'd seen some interactive elements, but nothing quite on this scale. It's part of what had piqued his interest. Apparently he wasn't the only one, either.

“I don’t know,” Raf said with a shrug. “You’re right about the accessibility of internet or certain spheres of influence adding another breed of elites into the equation, if art in the fine art sense is being consumed in that form. I don’t think I’ll ever have access to the discourse surrounding the conversation, but I wonder how it’d affect definition of art in terms of like pop art or fine art. I think you’re right, more people will be remembered, with more content consumed. I wonder how long they’re remembered, though, and how they are.” 

As they entered the darker room, different surfaces were illuminated by projections, screens, and various mediums they were projected onto. He wandered the other way a bit before walking into a slightly smaller room that was branching off to the side. Opposed to it’s darker cousin, this second was almost fully lit up with projections across the walls, floor, ceiling, and what appeared to be some raised areas and other materials he couldn't quite figure out at this distance. Across the floor seemed like a field of flowers that looked familiar but slightly alien, across the walls appeared to be a bioluminescent forest, almost as if this small meadow was a hidden secret in a dark forest. If he looked closer, in some sections of the room, it almost appeared like the wildlife around them was starting to meld into the real realm. Raf edged closer to the wall, standing back as if to absorb more. When he'd been reading about the exhibit, he'd heard mention that the crowd interaction with the exhibit impacted the art. And that it was ever changing. It took him a moment to notice just how it was changing, though. It was subtle, slow growth, something closer to watching water trickle than rapids rushing. Certain factors seemed to be causing greater change than others; foot traffic, patrons touching parts of the exhibit, and even the presence of certain people appeared to cause reactions in the atmosphere. 

Raf was caught up looking at the room in front of him, content watching, even without having interacted too much himself. As easy as it would be to sit back and just watch the world slowly change in a room as lush as the one he was standing in, Raf found himself with his brows knit, observing, taking in, almost trying to decode the room in front of him. His chin was resting on his thumb, his fingers loosely dangling in front of his mouth as he tried to figure out the room. He'd gotten so focused on his observations, he hadn't noticed Agot approaching. Raf's shoulders bounced in surprise, his hand now moving from in front of his face to cross with his other arm in front of him. “I think it's reacting to sound, too,” Raf said quietly to Agot's response. In typical fashion, it was easier for him to divine the mechanics of the situation than it was his own reactions to it.

[thenewburymedal]

lanasantos-newbury‌:

She only had a wicked smile to show for her insolence, whether the nice ticket taker heard her or not. She followed Raf’s cue and hustled her way through the oncoming traffic, keeping to his side. “We could start with that exhibit you were talking about,” she suggested, dallying, while they ruminated their options. “Or we could just follow a path, left to right. There’s nothing I’m itching to see. It’s your call.” She decided Raf was going to take the lead today, in contrast to the many events where she would wander and leave Raf to follow. A bit of a try on the steering wheel, of sorts. “Oh, O'Keeffe, no question,” she said, taking the question on another direction. “Abstract Queen of America. Gentileschi? Polka-dot Queen Kusama?” she rambled, listing all the artists on the top of her head. “I’d say Banksy, as most would, but he’s getting a little too theatrical for my taste.” She scrunched her nose. “My wig collection could use a bit of help. They’re all rugged from overuse.” She gave it a thought, though it was saddening to think about all the artists whose work were never saw permanence in the ever fickle world of art. It was a struggle even she wrestled with—the struggle to be known, to leave a legacy, to leave a mark through her art. “I mean, in the thousands, millions, even, of artists, only a handful are ever remembered throughout history. It’s sad but… I don’t know. I don’t think anyone deserves to be forgotten.”

“You want to alternate, then? Go to the new exhibit, then you pick one?” Raf asked. As much as had his preferences, he hadn’t taken them down here for his own sake. It’d been meant as a surprise and a way to spend time with Agot, not something for him to completely commandeer. Though, if he really thought about it, that was usually pretty impossible with Agot around. “Really? Banksy?” Raf asked, furrowing his brows. It was one of the few artists he felt he knew enough to actually make a comment about. He paused for a moment, debating just how to phrase it. “I get like average energy. But skilled and thoughtful application.” It was probably the cleanest way Raf had ever phrased the sentiment. But they were in an institution of higher art and culture. That, and Raf couldn’t be sure when a family with young kids would pass by.  "I can make that happen, I’ve got a couple plugs.” Raf waved his hand a single time, as if erasing any concerns. Though, if this were a serious conversation, he wasn’t quite sure how much his friends knew about clown wigs, per se. “Sometimes I look at modern art and I wonder who is going to be forgotten. Like, the only reason we know about most of those older works is because a wealthy patron commissioned it or traders and buyers deemed it worthy. What will our elites deem worthy of remembering?” Raf mused, but before he could let himself get too drawn into discussions of how the bourgeoisie's control of the proletariat influenced art and the perception of it, he tried to change the subject. Now wasn’t the time for leftist ramblings of that variety. “Anyways, I think the new exhibition is over there,” he pointed towards the back, “aren’t the special exhibits usually like that way, and then left?” 

[thenewburymedal]

3vsaugis‌:

As expected of him and his sister, all visits to Rosewood meant staying at their grandparents’ house, a requirement neither Saugis sibling ever complained about. Though he wished he didn’t have to sneak around to see his boyfriend when they were in town. His grandparents weren’t that old-fashioned, but he recognized some of his family members liked to meddle and he wasn’t ready to throw Raf to the wolves. Except that was going to change tonight. “Are you sure about this?” he asked before greeting Raf with a quick kiss on the lips. “I’m happy you’re here, but you know how my family can be,” he said, mostly joking. 

@thenewburymedal​

“I’m sure,” Raf said, reaching an arm around Tristan’s shoulders as they kissed hello. He let his arm hang for a moment or two longer, his hand lingering on the side of Tristan’s neck. He’d met all of Tristan’s family before. He knew some of them better than others, but the idea of cooking for them or spending time with them wasn’t enough to scare him away. Was he a little nervous? Sure, he wanted to make a good first-as-a-boyfriend impression, but he felt steady in the foundation of their relationship that the butterflies in his stomach weren’t enough to stop him from coming to dinner. “We’re going to have a great time. And I don’t trust you to handle a knife by yourself with that thing,” Raf said, his hand dropping from Tristan’s neck to nudge his cast gently as he stepped inside.

[thenewburymedal]

lanasantos-newbury‌:

On the contrary, Agot didn’t think much of Pollock. She thought his method was fascinating but that was the extent of her thoughts on the man and his work. “I think the size adds to the allure,” she offered, an addition to the limited opinions she bore. “But I see what you mean. He’s just one of those guys who have small energies,” she joked, a riddle she hoped wasn’t lost on her brother. “Bold of you to assume I don’t have one ready for myself.” Art was one of the things she allowed herself to be pensive about. She considered his remark and nodded in solidarity. “I mean there are old pieces that talk about transcending themes that still, to this day, remain relevant. Take the Spoliarium, for example. That’s what I like about art, how it transcends.”

Of course, Agot had to say that right before they stepped up to hand their tickets over to the ticket taker. Raf snorted. He paused his reaction, waiting to receive their stubs back and to get slightly further away from the throngs of people. “Alright, two questions then. One, which exhibit are we starting in? And two, who gives you the biggest energy?” Raf asked. He knew he didn’t know enough to really make much of a coherent joke in retort. Instead, he’d let Agot tell him who the bucket list stops were, should either of them get a time machine. “How’s your wig selection, then?” Raf looked over to see maps on the wall, but he doubted he’d need them with Agot here. He figured she knew where all of the galleries were by now. Probably not specific exhibits, but they could figure that out as they went along. “Yeah,” Raf agreed, nodding in contemplation, “There’s definitely something to be said about transcendent pieces. Sometimes they make me wonder about the pieces that didn’t make, it though. Whose art got forgotten? And did they deserve it?”

[thenewburymedal]

lanasantos-newbury‌:

She followed her brother, like an obedient child. Had she held his hand, it would’ve been like she was five again—holding onto her mother, as she waited to see what wonders lay ahead of her. But she’d been here enough times not to get lost and old enough not to need to hold onto anyone. “Pollock? You sound like such a jock,” she joked. “Bit characteristic of you, actually.” She waited patiently, as he got the tickets for them, rocking on her heels, in the meantime. “Oh, wow, didn’t expect that. I guess it is. And I was excited to see Soir Bleu in person. That clown is my icon.”

“Shut up,” Raf responded, rolling his eyes and shaking his head, even though he had a grin on his face. It occurred to him, he was pretty sure only Agot and Tristan called him a jock. “From all the pictures, I assumed all his works were like...24x36 max.” He wasn’t actually sure he’d seen any images of the large one in any textbooks, but even if he had, he knew he wouldn’t have been able to estimate the size. It was similar to Van Gogh’s Starry Night or the Mona Lisa. Not that he’d seen the Mona Lisa in person yet. Raf wasn’t quite sure he remembered which painting Agot was talking about, but he nodded. “Remind me to get you face paint for your birthday this year,” he joked. It felt safe to joke about a clown and face paint, even if he wasn’t sure the exact painting she was referencing. “I know all art is inherently political, but with some of the more modern pieces, I felt like I understood some of the context behind it. Made it a little more impactful to me."

[thenewburymedal]

lanasantos-newbury‌:

She pushed open the door and trotted inside, worming through the small wave of people coming and going. There were a considerable amount of visitors inside. She wondered if they were here for the same exhibit as they were. Turning to answer his question, Agot walked backwards, slowing her pace as to not accidentally bump into a stranger. “I mean the MoMA holds René Magritte’s Lovers but,” she tilted her head, before turning to face forward, again, “This is home, still. Here I witnessed my first art exhibit. So I guess nostalgia beats the rest,” she answered, a piece of rare honesty. “Have you got a favourite? And don’t try stealing Tristan’s. Just cause he’s your boyfriend doesn’t mean you get to share.”

Raf tilted his head towards the ticket counters, as he started aiming himself towards that way. Despite the crowds, the line for the tickets didn’t seem too long. “I liked that really big Jackson Pollock at the MoMA, I didn’t quite realize any of his works were that big based on the textbooks,” Raf said, biding his time as he tried to think of which museum he liked - and if he had the name right or if he was getting them mixed up with others. Luckily, as they stepped forward in line, he bought a little more time along with the tickets. As he opened his wallet, placing the credit card back in it’s slot and pushed it back in his pocket, he hummed in debate. “I think I liked the Whitney the best so far. It felt really...vibrant? There were a lot of artists I’d never heard of.” They hadn’t been to anywhere close to all the museums in the city yet. “And that’s not Tristan’s favorite, so I’m not copying anything.”

[thenewburymedal]

lanasantos-newbury‌:

She had some inkling of where they were headed, and, perhaps, the familiar route was a clearer indication. Though it was less of a surprise than he had intended, she was surprised, nonetheless, not expecting the sudden trip to the Art Institute. Loitering at the bottom of the steps, she gave him her best imitation of surprise—slack-jawed, eyes wide, arms flung around like something made out of a jelly-like substance. “What? I didn’t expect this at all. The Art Institute is my favourite place on earth,” she said, in a pitch higher than her natural one, and only half-kidding. In another second, she was laughing at her own silliness and at her brother’s sheepish smile. It was cute—the gesture—and she appreciated it, although she didn’t know how to show her gratefulness. She replaced her hands inside the pockets of her jeans, before climbing up the stairs, not waiting for Raf to follow.

“Alright, alright,” Raf said, shaking his head and playfully rolling his eyes. He didn’t need all the theatrics, her reaction wasn’t his prime motivating factor but it made him chuckle, none the less. “I’ll get a little more creative next time.” He’d make them bike there and take the long way, or just walk to the Art Institute and redirect them to The Bean. The latter felt a little cruel. Still, he knew this was as close to genuine gratitude as he’d likely get, so he decided to take it. Raf started climbing the stairs after Agot, taking two at a time to catch up. “So, have any of the New York museums come close to knocking this one off the top spot?” Raf asked as he caught up. They’d only been to a couple so far and he couldn’t quite tell if she’d found a new favorite. Or at least a favorite in New York.