[Pokémon X&Y] Layer After Layer
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teamflareTitle: Layer After Layer
Fandom: Pokémon X&Y
Pairing: Malva & Siebold
Rating: G
Summary: From across the table he'd set up for them to have their yearly end-of-the-season celebratory dinner, Siebold was glaring at Malva with an intensity he usually reserved for pokémon battles.
Notes: A ficlet written as a gift forfandomgiftbasket. I think this is actually my first time writing something for an event of this type...
AO3 Link: Here.
Some people were hard to read because they had full control over their range of emotions, like Diantha whose acting ability was unparalleled, and there were people who were hard to read because they simply didn't emote much, or only in specific circumstances, like Wikstrom who always seemed too caught-up in his shtick to humor much else.
Then, of course, some people were hard to read because they always, to put it bluntly, looked pissed as hell.
From across the table he'd set up for them to have their yearly end-of-the-season celebratory dinner, Siebold was glaring at Malva with an intensity he usually reserved for pokémon battles. She would have been flattered, had she any idea why he was even mad at her to begin with. She'd been well-behaved, as far as she was concerned: she'd participated in the opening toast, she'd complimented his table decor, she'd even listened intently to his long explanation of everything that was on the menu, only stopping to take a sip of champagne whenever he paused to take a breath. Diantha hadn't even tried the champagne, for shame.
It was very nice champagne. She would have enjoyed it more without having to deal with her colleague staring daggers into her. Being personable was stressful enough.
She could have gone and asked him, but that would have been admitting she'd spotted something was wrong, which was impolite, not to mention possibly incorrect. For all she knew, Siebold wasn't even angry at all. Maybe it was just his face, or maybe he was looking at something else, like a flower in one of the bouquets he'd ordered that he'd suddenly realized was the wrong color. It wasn't her business.
Malva took another sip of champagne. She was determined to keep having a good time. Maybe she could spy on Diantha for a bit, see what she was up to. She looked around to locate her, and was so caught up in her search that she didn't notice Siebold had walked up to her until he was close enough to spill champagne on.
Thankfully for both of them, Malva was very hard to startle. She blinked at him and pursed her lips. He was still glaring, although now that he was no longer across the table, she could catch a few telltale signs of something worse than anger or annoyance.
Pity.
"What's wrong with you?" she asked before he could speak. "Did you realize you forgot to salt one of the main dishes or something?"
"You haven't eaten anything," Siebold said.
Now it was Malva's turn to glare at him. "How do you know that?" she said.
"I was watching you. I made some of this for you, and you haven't touched it at all."
As he spoke, Siebold's apparent anger seemed to melt away, smoothing his frown bit by bit, though never entirely. Malva's gaze slid down, to peer into her glass of champagne instead, as if there was anything interesting to see among the bubbles.
"So what?" she said.
To Siebold's credit, he wasn't one for niceties and fake concern. Even though he was no longer glaring, he still seemed aggravated by her antics. He shook his head, squared his shoulders, and crossed his arms.
"You're insulting my hospitality."
That was not the angle Malva expected. She'd braced herself for a lecture about her health and how thin she was and how she needed the nutrients et cætera, and there he was, going for the low blow. She scoffed, holding up her glass to her lips to drink what was left inside.
"Really? That's what you think will get me to eat your food? You think I'll pretend to care about your opinion of me and nibble on a muffin to appease you?"
Siebold appeared unmoved by her animosity. If anything, when she looked up at him again, he looked ever-so-slightly amused.
"My opinion of you, certainly not." His eyebrows raised slightly as his gaze drifted to his left, where Malva spotted Diantha and Drasna deep in conversation. "Diantha's, on the other hand..."
Bastard, Malva thought. She gritted her teeth so it wouldn't come out of her mouth, but it was a very near thing. She knew for a fact Diantha would not be happy to learn she had missed out on tasting the food Siebold had spent so much time preparing for them all. Whether it was because she found it impolite or because she was worried about Malva's well-being didn't even matter; the less she was being openly perceived by Diantha, the better.
Siebold was well aware of that, of course.
"Fine," she hissed between her teeth. "What is it?"
He was holding something behind his back, and had been for as long as he'd come to talk to her. She thought he would make a whole production of it, revealing the hidden dish with all the appropriate dramatics, but instead, he merely straightened himself and brought out a small plate upon which he'd perched an intricate, multilayered dessert.
"Strawberry mille-feuille," he announced. He quirked one eyebrow as if to dare her to dismiss it. "I believe you said it was your favorite when you were a child. The words I recall you used were akin to..." He cleared his throat, and affected a very approximate imitation of Malva's voice and cadence; at least, she hoped she didn't actually sound anywhere near that bad. "A very special treat I only got to taste whenever my maman took me on endless shopping trips in Lumiose City." Then, in his usual voice, he concluded, "I queried the best pâtisserie in the capital for their recipe."
It was... Well. It was a lot. Coming from Siebold, especially, who treated cooking and baking like a fine art that he dedicated himself with as much gusto if not more as he did to pokémon battling, it was the equivalent of a long, warm hug for someone who loves long, warm hugs. Which Malva didn't.
She did love strawberry mille-feuilles. They populated some of the rare wistful memories she had of her childhood, and even just the flavor of strawberries could get her to feel a sense of nostalgia unlike any other.
Before she could open her mouth to dismiss the gesture with a sarcastic jab, her stomach growled. The corners of Siebold's mouth twitched. He remained mercifully silent, the plate still held up with one hand.
A peace offering.
She didn't need anybody to look after her. She could, however, afford to let them feed her good pastries from time to time. As a treat – to them, that is. Obviously.
Siebold's other hand produced a pastry fork from Arceus knew where, and she took it without saying a word. It sunk into the mille-feuille slowly, gently, the first layer breaking with a soft crack, any other sound then drowned by the soft strawberry filling. The smell made Malva's mouth water. Suddenly, everything that wasn't the delicious dessert disappeared. She took a bite.
It melted on her tongue, the powerful taste seeping into it and making her eyelids flutter. Everything was so perfectly balanced, each flavor melding together as if it had all been meticulously calculated, and she was sure it had been. Siebold wasn't the sort to leave things to chance, in baking or otherwise.
She swallowed and couldn't hold back a sigh. Gone too soon. She all but snatched the plate out of Siebold's hand so she could cut another piece.
"Bon appétit," he said. There was no smugness to it. When she looked up, he did at least seem a little proud, like he was trying to keep it in for her sake. Bastard. "I am at your disposal should you need anything else."
Malva rolled her eyes. She swallowed her new mouthful before cutting herself yet another.
"Fuck off," she said, and this time, Siebold's lips did spread into a smile.
Fandom: Pokémon X&Y
Pairing: Malva & Siebold
Rating: G
Summary: From across the table he'd set up for them to have their yearly end-of-the-season celebratory dinner, Siebold was glaring at Malva with an intensity he usually reserved for pokémon battles.
Notes: A ficlet written as a gift for
fandomgiftbasket. I think this is actually my first time writing something for an event of this type...AO3 Link: Here.
Some people were hard to read because they had full control over their range of emotions, like Diantha whose acting ability was unparalleled, and there were people who were hard to read because they simply didn't emote much, or only in specific circumstances, like Wikstrom who always seemed too caught-up in his shtick to humor much else.
Then, of course, some people were hard to read because they always, to put it bluntly, looked pissed as hell.
From across the table he'd set up for them to have their yearly end-of-the-season celebratory dinner, Siebold was glaring at Malva with an intensity he usually reserved for pokémon battles. She would have been flattered, had she any idea why he was even mad at her to begin with. She'd been well-behaved, as far as she was concerned: she'd participated in the opening toast, she'd complimented his table decor, she'd even listened intently to his long explanation of everything that was on the menu, only stopping to take a sip of champagne whenever he paused to take a breath. Diantha hadn't even tried the champagne, for shame.
It was very nice champagne. She would have enjoyed it more without having to deal with her colleague staring daggers into her. Being personable was stressful enough.
She could have gone and asked him, but that would have been admitting she'd spotted something was wrong, which was impolite, not to mention possibly incorrect. For all she knew, Siebold wasn't even angry at all. Maybe it was just his face, or maybe he was looking at something else, like a flower in one of the bouquets he'd ordered that he'd suddenly realized was the wrong color. It wasn't her business.
Malva took another sip of champagne. She was determined to keep having a good time. Maybe she could spy on Diantha for a bit, see what she was up to. She looked around to locate her, and was so caught up in her search that she didn't notice Siebold had walked up to her until he was close enough to spill champagne on.
Thankfully for both of them, Malva was very hard to startle. She blinked at him and pursed her lips. He was still glaring, although now that he was no longer across the table, she could catch a few telltale signs of something worse than anger or annoyance.
Pity.
"What's wrong with you?" she asked before he could speak. "Did you realize you forgot to salt one of the main dishes or something?"
"You haven't eaten anything," Siebold said.
Now it was Malva's turn to glare at him. "How do you know that?" she said.
"I was watching you. I made some of this for you, and you haven't touched it at all."
As he spoke, Siebold's apparent anger seemed to melt away, smoothing his frown bit by bit, though never entirely. Malva's gaze slid down, to peer into her glass of champagne instead, as if there was anything interesting to see among the bubbles.
"So what?" she said.
To Siebold's credit, he wasn't one for niceties and fake concern. Even though he was no longer glaring, he still seemed aggravated by her antics. He shook his head, squared his shoulders, and crossed his arms.
"You're insulting my hospitality."
That was not the angle Malva expected. She'd braced herself for a lecture about her health and how thin she was and how she needed the nutrients et cætera, and there he was, going for the low blow. She scoffed, holding up her glass to her lips to drink what was left inside.
"Really? That's what you think will get me to eat your food? You think I'll pretend to care about your opinion of me and nibble on a muffin to appease you?"
Siebold appeared unmoved by her animosity. If anything, when she looked up at him again, he looked ever-so-slightly amused.
"My opinion of you, certainly not." His eyebrows raised slightly as his gaze drifted to his left, where Malva spotted Diantha and Drasna deep in conversation. "Diantha's, on the other hand..."
Bastard, Malva thought. She gritted her teeth so it wouldn't come out of her mouth, but it was a very near thing. She knew for a fact Diantha would not be happy to learn she had missed out on tasting the food Siebold had spent so much time preparing for them all. Whether it was because she found it impolite or because she was worried about Malva's well-being didn't even matter; the less she was being openly perceived by Diantha, the better.
Siebold was well aware of that, of course.
"Fine," she hissed between her teeth. "What is it?"
He was holding something behind his back, and had been for as long as he'd come to talk to her. She thought he would make a whole production of it, revealing the hidden dish with all the appropriate dramatics, but instead, he merely straightened himself and brought out a small plate upon which he'd perched an intricate, multilayered dessert.
"Strawberry mille-feuille," he announced. He quirked one eyebrow as if to dare her to dismiss it. "I believe you said it was your favorite when you were a child. The words I recall you used were akin to..." He cleared his throat, and affected a very approximate imitation of Malva's voice and cadence; at least, she hoped she didn't actually sound anywhere near that bad. "A very special treat I only got to taste whenever my maman took me on endless shopping trips in Lumiose City." Then, in his usual voice, he concluded, "I queried the best pâtisserie in the capital for their recipe."
It was... Well. It was a lot. Coming from Siebold, especially, who treated cooking and baking like a fine art that he dedicated himself with as much gusto if not more as he did to pokémon battling, it was the equivalent of a long, warm hug for someone who loves long, warm hugs. Which Malva didn't.
She did love strawberry mille-feuilles. They populated some of the rare wistful memories she had of her childhood, and even just the flavor of strawberries could get her to feel a sense of nostalgia unlike any other.
Before she could open her mouth to dismiss the gesture with a sarcastic jab, her stomach growled. The corners of Siebold's mouth twitched. He remained mercifully silent, the plate still held up with one hand.
A peace offering.
She didn't need anybody to look after her. She could, however, afford to let them feed her good pastries from time to time. As a treat – to them, that is. Obviously.
Siebold's other hand produced a pastry fork from Arceus knew where, and she took it without saying a word. It sunk into the mille-feuille slowly, gently, the first layer breaking with a soft crack, any other sound then drowned by the soft strawberry filling. The smell made Malva's mouth water. Suddenly, everything that wasn't the delicious dessert disappeared. She took a bite.
It melted on her tongue, the powerful taste seeping into it and making her eyelids flutter. Everything was so perfectly balanced, each flavor melding together as if it had all been meticulously calculated, and she was sure it had been. Siebold wasn't the sort to leave things to chance, in baking or otherwise.
She swallowed and couldn't hold back a sigh. Gone too soon. She all but snatched the plate out of Siebold's hand so she could cut another piece.
"Bon appétit," he said. There was no smugness to it. When she looked up, he did at least seem a little proud, like he was trying to keep it in for her sake. Bastard. "I am at your disposal should you need anything else."
Malva rolled her eyes. She swallowed her new mouthful before cutting herself yet another.
"Fuck off," she said, and this time, Siebold's lips did spread into a smile.