Ionic Bonds, Lithium Salts - VII
Ah. Now this was much better.
"Food's ready," Matthew called, carefully flipping the last pancake onto one of Francis's china plates.
"Awesome!" Gilbert said, grinning as he suddenly appeared at Matthew's elbow (honestly, though, how did he do that?) "Ooh, these do look pretty good!" he said, peering at the stack of golden pancakes. "Better than IHOP, huh? Let's see!"
And with that, Gilbert and both plates of pancakes were gone, migrated (teleported, Matthew corrected himself) in a heartbeat to Francis's dining room. And, much less quickly, so was Matthew. The sun slanted in through the windows on the neatly set table, and the white paint of the chairs shone in the sunlight.
They sat down, Gilbert for once quieted by the prospect of food. And, after quite a bit of prodigious rummaging through Francis's cabinets, Matthew brought out condiments: chopped strawberries, ganache and chocolate chips from Valrhona, clover honey and golden molasses to compensate for the lack of maple syrup. Gilbert didn't seem to mind the unorthodox flavors, if the rate at which he ate was any indication.
For a few moments, they ate in silence.
"You know," Gilbert said, chewing as he cut into another pancake, "these are probably better than Francis's crepes."
Matthew looked down at his pancakes and muttered something incoherent.
"No, seriously," Gilbert said, waving his fork in the air as he talked, "they're seriously some pretty damn amazing pancakes. You could probably make a nice mint selling these things for money - you should, you know? I mean, that would be pretty awesome - Francis could do all the fancy French stuff, and Antonio's great with stuff like paella and gazpacho, so he could do that - and then there's me, of course, and I could do all the awesome German cooking while you make those awesome pancakes of yours -"
"So," Matthew asked, smiling up at Gilbert, "they're better than IHOP's, eh?"
"Galaxies better, roomie."
In the sun-saturated room, they smiled at each other.
"So," Gilbert continued, dangling a piece of pancake on his fork as he leaned back in Francis's chair, "what were you doing in a bakery anyway, roomie? Seeing as you can cook like this."
"Well," Matthew said, smiling as he picked up his fork again, "I was buying a cake -"
"Ooh, for a girl, right?"
"N-no! It wasn't -"
"Oh - a guy, then? 'S okay, 's okay - I'm pretty sure Francis and Tonio swing both ways, too -"
"No! I mean, yes, it was for a guy, but not because of that -"
"Aw, c'mon Mattie, I won't tell anyone -"
"No - it's not like that at all! I was buying it because I got him in trouble and then he kind of yelled at me and then got coffee dumped on him!"
There was a silence, then.
The piece of pancake slowly fell off Gilbert's fork and onto the floor.
"Wait," Gilbert said, putting his fork down, "so you're telling me that you dumped coffee on someone?"
"Um, well, someone else did that. But did I kind of did get him in trouble."
"How?" Gilbert asked, grinning as he picked up the fork again. "Didja pick a fight with him? Insult his mother? Girlfriend? Grandma? - or you know, there's this really neat thing Tonio and I did once, we put cayenne pepper in Francis's wine, and oh, God, you should have seen his face when he tried to get drunk that night -"
"Um, no. I didn't. I was kind of falling asleep. So I got in his way. Um. When he was trying to see."
Once again, the silence. Once again, the fork, pancake dangling precariously at the end.
Gilbert stared at Matthew for a moment, and then burst out laughing.
"What?" Matthew asked, not quite sure what was so funny while inexplicably also beginning to blush.
"Oh God, roomie," Gilbert said, shoulders shaking and white hair flopping as he laughed, "when people are assholes to you, you punch them in the nose - you don't go and buy them cake."
"B-but - well, I thought if I bought him cake, then maybe he wouldn't hate me anymore -"
"Mattie, let me tell you this again - if someone's going to hate you, you don't buy them fucking cake, you punch them in the fucking face -"
"But I can't punch him in face -"
"Why not? I can do it for you, if you don't want to -"
"But I don't want anyone to be punched in the face! That's why I'm buying the cake!"
Another silence: long, awkward.
"It's, um, like a peace offering? I guess. So no one gets punched in the face."
Gilbert stared.
And then he began to laugh again.
"Oh, God, Mattie - oh God oh God oh God -"
"Anyway," Matthew asked, turning hastily to his pancakes and another topic, "what were you doing at a bakery?"
"Buying a cake - at least, fucking trying to."
"For a girl?"
"Nope!" Gilbert answered, cheerfully cutting into another pancake. "For my brother. Birthday cake, Kirschtorte cake - but they didn't have it, was the thing, see, which blows because I've tried nearly all of the places nearby, and either they don't carry it or their Kirschtorte tastes like cardboard - which is fucking insane, because, c'mon, we live in New York fucking City, we've got about fifty McDonalds each block, but we can't get one decent bakery that sells Kirschtorte? And, hell, it's not exactly as if I have all the time in the world to search this damn city - Luddy's birthday's October 18th and - oh, shit, that doesn't give me any time at all -"
"Um, Gilbert?"
"- yeah?"
"Did you say October 18th?"
"Yeah, and damn it, I don't have a present, either, what the fuck am I going to do -"
"Um, actually, I think it'll be alright -"
"Alright? Roomie, I don't think you understand -"
"Well, I know you want to get a nice present and a nice cake, which is really nice, but the thing is, it's September. Eleventh. Isn't your brother's birthday still, um, a bit far away?"
Pause. Tilt of head, slight lifting of the fork. Pancakes pieces, falling on polished wood.
"Well, maybe," Gilbert conceded, turning to his pancakes again. "But," he added quickly, pointing his fork in the air once again, "I was going to buy some stuff for chem, and I saw it on the way, so I thought I'd stop in - Francis used to work there, so I figured it had be at least somewhat palatable, even if it looked frilly as hell - and you know, it's nice to be prepared in advance and all that, and since I was there and being productive, why not get everything done at once? So, anyway, I walk into this girly-as-hell store to go looking for some damn cake - and they tell me they don't have any Kirschtorte, don't make any Kirschtorte, haven't even fucking heard of Kirschtorte - I mean, what the hell? How the hell am I supposed to give my brother a proper present if none of the damn stores in this city sell any proper German cake? But," he added, brightening suddenly, "that just means I get to make the cake, right? Which will make it just twice as awesome!"
Matthew nodded, muttered something noncommittal, and tried not to look Gilbert in the eyes.
"But, anyways, Mattie," Gilbert said, reaching over and scooping up several chocolate chips, "fact of the matter is, none of us have to go buy anything. I can make Kirschtorte for Luddy, and you can make pancake cake for whatever asshole you're trying to calm down!"
Matthew blinked.
"Pancake… cake?"
"Yeah," Gilbert said, nodding as he popped the chocolate into his mouth. "I mean, like I said before, your pancakes are pretty much fan-fucking-tastic, so I'm pretty sure they'd be at least ten times as awesome if you stuck them all together with chocolate and whipped cream and icing and all sorts of other sugary shit - I mean, who the hell wouldn't want to eat something like that? Hell, you could probably put someone into a sugar coma with that - it'd be awesome karma, and no one would actually get their face punched in."
"Um, well, it'd be nice if no one was put into a sugar coma, either. That might make him hate me more."
"Hey, I'd risk a sugar coma if it meant pancake cake - you are going to make it, right? Hey, we've even got time right now - and I could help, too, since you want this cake to be awesome and all -"
"Um, actually, that's okay - I think I can manage on my own, really -"
"Ah, c'mon, Mattie, I want to help - I could be your assistant, or your cleanup crew, or your taste tester -"
"Probably the last one," Matthew muttered under his breath.
"Really?" Gilbert asked, overhearing the aside and thus further confirming Matthew's hypothesis that he was secretly a ninja. "Awesome! Francis always lets me be taste tester, so I'm pretty sure my skills as one are pretty damn good -"
No, Matthew thought sadly as he listened to Gilbert talk, he really couldn't, could he? It would be like kicking a puppy, or telling a four-year-old that Santa didn't actually exist - you couldn't do it, just couldn't. And so if Gilbert wanted to make pancake cake - whatever in the world that was - then they would make pancake cake. Simple as that, and even if he had no idea what in the world it was.
Matthew sighed. He felt sorry for the poor cake, whatever it was.
***
"What the fuck is this?"
"Um, well, uh, it's a cake. A pancake cake."
Lovino Vargas, erstwhile known as AIG, stared at the cake.
"A pancake….cake."
"Um. Yes."
"A cake made out of pancakes."
"Kind of, I guess."
Lovino stared at the cake some more.
"It's poisoned, isn't it?"
"No! No, of course it isn't -"
"Then why the fuck are you giving me it?"
Pause.
In the silence, somewhere, a door closed.
Lovino smiled, triumph in his eyes as he looked at Matthew.
In a very small, very quiet voice, Matthew said, "to apologize. About, well, um, two days ago."
Again, the stare - this time not at the cake, but at Matthew. Then back to the cake. Then back to Matthew.
"Well," Lovino said slowly, the wariness in his eyes fading just a little bit, "I guess you didn't need to poison it anyway - I'll probably get fucking diabetes after the first bite of it. Though it's probably poisoned anyway, too."
"I can eat some of it, if you want - to show you it's not poisoned -"
"And have you die of diabetic shock on me? Fuck no, I'm not paying those bills," Lovino replied, picking up the cake with both hands and walking into Professor Hellen's classroom.
And - slowly, smiling slightly - Matthew followed him inside.
***
"Mattie!" Michelle called, standing up as she waved to him. "Hey, what's up?"
"Not much," he said, smiling at her as he put his books down. "How are you?"
"I'm fine!" she said, smiling back. "I had the best lunch with my brother the other day - we went to a crepes shop, and their food was pretty good, even if he makes better ones and -"
"Hi."
"Oh," Michelle said, glancing briefly at the Italian boy standing behind Matthew. "Hi."
She turned back to Matthew.
"Anyways, Mattie - the next time we go, you should definitely come with us! It'd be so much -"
"Excuse me."
Slowly, slowly, and with the air of someone facing their executioner, Michelle turned to Lovino Vargas.
"Yes?" she asked in a voice that would have frozen magma. "Do you want something?"
"I do," Lovino said, and placed the pancake cake on top of her books.
"It's a cake made out of pancakes," he said. "To apologize."
Michelle narrowed her eyes.
"No thank you," she said coldly. "I can do without the calories. It's probably poisoned, anyway."
Lovino opened his mouth -
And then the door opened, and the room went silent as Professor Hellen walked in.
"Good morning!" she said, putting her bag down. "I see we are ready to learn today - ah," she said, noticing Lovino and Michelle glaring at each other, "maybe not quite yet…"
Their eyes not leaving each other, Lovino and Michelle slowly sat down.
"Well!" Professor Hellen said, smiling at the class, "let us go back, then, to the developmental psychologists and Piaget…"
"In the end, however," Professor Hellen said, "Baby Albert - in addition to corroborating on Pavlov's discoveries on classical conditioning - also helped call into question the issue of ethics in experiments."
She paused, then, for a drink of water.
"And on that note," she said, putting her Ice Mountain back on the podium, "I would like to introduce to you the first of many group projects we will do in this class. In a laboratory environment - or, for that matter, in any work environment - you will often be working with a variety of personalities, some of which will naturally differ quite greatly from yours. It is my hope, then, by putting you in groups, you will gain some of the interpersonal skills you will need to succeed in the outside world."
Another pause, as Professor Hellen smiled at the class.
"Our first project, I hope, will naturally be of interest to you, because you will be designing an original experiment, to be tested, analyzed, and turned in two months' time. It will, naturally, be within ethical bounds."
"Now then. You will be sorted into pre-selected small groups of three each. Please sit still while I call out the names: Andrews, Zeng, Ghazni."
Silence, even then, as the three girls turned to look at each other, before quickly turning their attention again to Professor Hellen. Pavlovian response.
"Williams, Bonnefoy -"
"Mattie, we're together!" Michelle whispered, grinning at him, as Matthew's mind tried to work around the details - Bonnefoy? Bonnefoy? As in, Francis Bonnefoy? She was Francis's sister?
"- and Vargas."
Dead, horrified silence.
Three sets of eyes stared at each other. Blankly. Unbelievingly.
Professor Hellen smiled brightly, and continued reading names.
***
A/N: Fun fact - pancake cake actually exists. Google it, and you get tons of recipes - and they all look de-li-cious.
Thank you, as always, to all my readers and betas - you guys are wonderful and I love you all. 3
Also, sorry for not updating…AP tests and school have been slowly conspiring to kill me, so that's pretty fun there. This might is kind of the test until AP tests end, so I'm sorry about that, too - but I will try to update ASAP after my two weeks of torture are over!