Chapter 415: Prep The Kitchens.

Chapter 415: Chapter 415: Prep The Kitchens.

And like his uncle has somehow read his mind, the next time Xena runs out of breath, he interjects with a far too casual, "... So Loac , how’s Khobi?"

​It’s the first time he’s addressed him directly since greeting him, and Loac is instantly on the defensive; eyes narrowing as he sends his uncle a suspicious glare.

"Why do you care?" It’s a fair question, he thinks, but the blunt deflection makes Gurdet raise an eyebrow.

​"Just making conversation."

​Yeah, right . " What , about Khobi?"

​Gurdet offers his nephew a small shrug, and an even smaller, barely perceptible smile when he sees Loac’s fingers reflexively tighten around his mug.

​He knows. He already knows.

​Inexplicably, he finds himself thinking of ma’s ring sitting in the drawer beside his bed, and the words that had accompanied it.

​It’s yours now.

Do with it what you will.

​...And he’s probably known for a while.

​Well, fuck.

​" –Loac, no need to be cranky," Xena reminds him softly, hoping to diffuse the situation before this family dinner can blow up like many of those before it.

Loac grinds his teeth, and releases his grip on his mug to shove both hands under the table so that they won’t give him away anymore than they already have.

​"I’m not cranky ," he says, even though he is. Who can blame him? He’s fallen in love and it’s starting to feel like he was the last one to know. "...Khobi’s fine."

​Uncle takes a small sip of his tea and offers him an innocent look. "I’m glad."

​"Khobi has been getting really into his training," Xena chips in eagerly.

​"He’s always into his training," Loac snorts, partly under his breath. That’s safe to say, because everyone already knows that. No one likes training more than Khobi.

​" –You should see him, Father; he’s really very talented."

​"Oh, I’ve seen ." There’s that feeling again; that niggling sense that his uncle can somehow see right through him.

But as quickly as the hairs on the back of his neck start to prickle, the feeling recedes as Gurdet turns his attention back to his tea.

"Tell Khobi that my tailor will be paying him a visit soon, would you?"

​"...Tell him yourself."

​This time his uncle just rolls his eyes.

​"Maybe we should have Khobi join us for dinner one night," Xena suggests; a peace offering. "What do you think, Loac? We’re all going to be family soon, after all."

​" Sure , why don’t you invite Montrel, too?" Loac knows that Xena heard the sarcasm but is conveniently pretending that she didn’t.

​"That sounds like a wonderful idea, doesn’t it, Father?"

​"Positively splendid," his uncle replies, smile not quite concealing a grimace. "Khobi and Montrel eating dinner with us. What could possibly be more delightful?"

​Xena tactfully ignores him, too.

​"...You’ll need more than this," Loac snorts, gesturing at the remnants of the enormous spread that’s been laid out for the three of them.

​"I’ll make sure the kitchens are suitably prepared," Xena promises, and then wonders aloud what she should request they serve.

Khobi will definitely eat anything that’s put in front of him, but Loac just scoffs that anything’ll be fine as long as there’s plenty of meat.

For some reason she smiles when he says that –her expression just a little too smug and a little too sly for comfort –and he suddenly gets the uncanny feeling he’s fallen for something he shouldn’t have.

​He probably should have remembered that Xena is more like her father than she likes to be reminded, and that she’s clever, too.

...

The usual chaos of the mess hall is starting to wind down by the time he finally escapes from dinner, and Loac can’t help but be a little disappointed when he scans for their usual table and finds it already empty.

​Ah, they must’ve already finished up .

​"...Oh, hey Captain," one of the few remaining soldiers calls out, having seen him awkwardly loitering there, "...If you’re looking for Khobi, I’m pretty sure I heard him say he was heading down to the kitchens."

The guy’s just trying to be helpful, but Loac can’t help but feel a pang of annoyance. It’s starting to feel like everyone is obsessed with Khobi today.

​"Who said I was looking for Khobi?" he retorts, and the guy baulks at being snapped at by his prince.

​"...Oh, sorry," he apologises, looking instantly uncomfortable at having been so presumptive, "I...just assumed."

​Just assumed .

​This random soldier –someone Loac has probably knocked on his ass a couple of times now but not enough to know his face or learn his name –saw him wander in here by himself and just assumed he was looking for Khobi.

Which he was , but why would he know that?

​(Maybe it really is that obvious.)

...

​When Loac ducks in through the low doorway to the kitchens (because of course he headed to the kitchens), Khobi’s already set up camp at one of the work stations, buried deep under a pile of ingredients.

He doesn’t seem surprised to see Loac, but when he immediately plonks himself down on the opposite side of the bench and leans over to see what there is to stick his fingers in, he certainly doesn’t seem pleased .

​"Didn’t you just eat?" Khobi remarks dryly, rapping his wooden spoon hard across the back of Loac’s knuckles without missing a beat. It smarts, and he rapidly withdraws his hand with a wounded pout.

​"Didn’t you ?"

​Khobi has no comeback for that.

​"How was dinner with your family?" he asks instead, and he must already have a batch of whatever it is he’s making on the fire because he pushes a used mixing bowl across the bench for Loac to scrape clean.

It’s not quite the same –everything is tastier when it’s stolen, but it’s better than getting smacked.

And there’s a decent amount of batter left for him to sample, so he generously decides to accept the compromise. Until it’s gone, at least.

​"...It was fine," Loac hums, running a finger around the rim of the bowl then noisily sucking away the sticky batter that gathers there. Khobi doesn’t watch him do it, which really won’t do. "...They...want you to come to the next one."

​"Really?" Khobi remarks, sounding surprised but not faltering in whatever it is he’s doing.

Whatever he’s got cooking is starting to smell awful good, and if the batter is anything to go by it’s gonna taste it, too.

​"Yeah," he mutters vacantly, eyes never leaving his form as he moves around the bench with purpose, "Montrel, too. Since you’re both gonna... y’know ."