Chapter 390: Hands Off My Cakes.

Chapter 390: Chapter 390: Hands Off My Cakes.

And as much as Khobi loves throwing himself into his training, he has to admit that it’s a nice change of pace to be back down here.

The servants must have known he was coming, because when he asks if he can borrow a work station for a bit, there’s one already cleaned and cleared and ready for him.

There’s even a servant hovering anxiously beside the bench, looking like he’s doing something wrong just be being there even though there’s no doubt he’s there by design.

He’s quite the talented cook, actually.

​"Mornin’ Tobo," Khobi greets casually, and said servant promptly jumps out of his skin.

​"A-ah, good morning, Khobi," he replies, and hurriedly remembers to bow before equally hurriedly remembering that Khobi hates it when the servants do that.

Alarmed by his blunder, he winds up awkwardly dipped somewhere between almost and also not quite a bow and doesn’t seem to know how to recover.

​"What are you doing?" Khobi deadpans, helping himself to the apron that’s been laid out for him and wringing his hands with barely-contained excitement. It’s sure been a minute.

Training’s kept him pretty occupied, but he’s finally gotten some spare time to himself and he’s looking forward to it.

​"S-sorry, Khobi," Tobo apologises, and Khobi rolls his eyes. He also hates that, but if he mentions it, it just seems to make it worse.

"I should have remembered that –"

​"It’s fine," he tells him; not that it’ll help. "...You can stand up now," he adds, when it becomes obvious that Tobo is still locked in a state of panic.

​"R-right." He bolts upright so fast it almost spooks Khobi . "F-forgive me, Khobi."

​"You’re forgiven." It’s easier than to try and convince him that there’s nothing to forgive. "Actually," he muses, because of the servants Tobo is one of the ones who the cooks implicitly trust the most.

He’s always on the edges looking for tips and tricks, and Khobi’s cooking always goes smoothest when he’s on hand to help.

"Could you help me with something?

There’s something I’ve been wanting to try."

​"...A recipe?" Tobo ventures, and Khobi nods. And when he tells him what exactly he’s been wanting to make, Tobo – Tobo , of all people –gives him a reproachful look, and tells him that they’re not easy.

​(Because of course they’re not.)

​But Khobi’s never backed down from a challenge, and while it’s certainly been some time since he last had one in the kitchen, if he managed to help Loac make something passably edible, he can handle anything.

​And Tobo wasn’t lying.

​They’re not easy.

There aren’t a lot of ingredients, and not nearly as many steps as some of the things Khobi’s made, but the trick as it so happens lies in the execution, and Khobi quickly finds out that for as anxious of a servant as Tobo is, beyond that fragile exterior lies the stone cold heart of a castle cook. 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ

That meaning that whenever he doesn’t do something just right, he’s at risk of getting rapped across the knuckles with a spoon.

And maybe it’s just a feature of the servants in this castle, but Tobo’s got quick hands.

​"Better," he decides, as Khobi presents his most recent mixture for evaluation, "Much better."

​Khobi’s kind of relieved. His knuckles are starting to hurt, and he hasn’t even gotten started on what he actually came down here for.

Thankfully these don’t take all that long to cook, and while the batter tastes pretty nice as it is he’s already got some different flavours he wants to try out once he’s got the technique down.

​Also thankfully, he makes it all the way through his first batch without overcooking any of them, and the servants that have been loitering with a mild mix of trepidation and awe are quick to flood in to be the first to try them. Khobi only gets one.

​It tastes really , really good.

Tobo seems both pleased, and a bit disappointed by that, like he’d kind of been hoping to get one more solid whack in.

Khobi makes sure that in the next two batches, he doesn’t give him any reason to.

​They taste better once they’ve cooled apparently, so he leaves Tobo to pop them from their moulds as he sets about gathering up a fresh set of ingredients.

This recipe isn’t particularly difficult by any means and at this point he could probably do it in his sleep, but he’s making a special effort today to make sure it comes out perfect, and it’s just as he’s finishing folding the batter together that a familiar voice interrupts his thoughts and drags his attention up from his mixing bowl.

​" –What’re we eatin’?"

​Khobi doesn’t remember inviting Loac down to the kitchens.

In fact, he distinctly remembers deliberately not telling him he’d be in the kitchens because he wants to get these right and Loac’s very presence in a kitchen seems to have a negative impact on the baking process and on Khobi’s ability to concentrate in general.

​He wonders who snitched.

​" We are not eating anything," Khobi informs him flatly, whipping the bowl away from him before he can get his fingers in the mixture.

He still manages to snag some of the batter from the lip of the bowl, and promptly sucks it into his mouth. His eyes immediately light up as he recognises the taste.

​"...Honeycakes?" he queries, eyes full of mischievous as he runs his tongue along his lips. Khobi knows to be wary of that look.

​"They’re not for you," he states firmly, relocating himself to the other side of the bench.

It’s never been much of a deterrence for Loac’s wandering hands before but it’s always worth a shot. Loac immediately looks put out.

​"Who’re they for, then?" he demands, like he absolutely can’t believe that Khobi would make something for someone other than him.

​"Xena," Khobi replies simply, tasting the batter and deciding that it needs more lemon.

The answer seems to irk Loac. He’s not sure why; they’re cousins, aren’t they? And not that he owes him any explanation, but after a beat he finds himself adding, "...Montrel asked me to make some for her."

​"Oh." It’s not quite the truth but it seems to settle him down. Montrel hadn’t specifically said that they were for the princess, but Khobi had figured that out for himself.

"Xena’ll like that."

​"Not if you eat them all," Khobi growls, waving his spoon threateningly as he starts getting the honeycakes ready for baking.

"Get away from me," he warns, as Loac starts sidling around the edge of the bench with intent.

​" –Who said I’m after you?" Loac hums back, and it shouldn’t make the hairs rise on the back of Khobi’s neck but it absolutely does.

​"Aren’t you always?" he can’t help but scoff back. He’s a little surprised with how flirtatious it comes out, and a small shiver runs down his spine when Loac chuckles into his neck as he ghosts in close.

​"... Touché," he snickers, and almost makes Khobi drop his bowl by giving his ass a playful squeeze.

It’s just enough time for him to hook out the last dregs of the mixture, and Khobi lets out an annoyed noise as he ducks away, grinning; tongue so intentionally greedy around his fingers that it makes Khobi want to lick his lips.

​Scratch that, he does lick his lips. And even though it’s impossible for him to know about the thick bolt of lust that shoots right down his spine to coil with anticipation right where Loac’s recently had his tongue, from the way Loac stills; eyes fixed on him and his tongue partway up the length of his index finger, something in Khobi’s face has given him away.

​Ah, shit.

​Expression growing smug, Loac’s tongue trails back between his teeth, and he considers him thoughtfully as he leans back into the bench. "...See somethin’ you like?"

​Yes.