Midnight Snack [Francis+Ivan]

Francis stood in the kitchen, he was hungry. Well not just hungry for food hungry but for good food. It's been too long since he's tasted his own cooking (which is pretty damn good, mind you) and it was his first day of freedom so he decided to make himself a homemade croissant.

In his search for ingredients he was happy to see that this kitchen was fully equipped. He flipped on the music player, an old CD of his played quietly as he began to bake.

It wasn't lunch, but Ivan had been given clearance to come into the cafeteria and kitchen to get something to eat periodically because of the demands of his rather active job. Normally, he'd just walk into the kitchen, grab a packet of dry ramen noodles and munch away, but today... he wasn't alone in the kitchen.

The tall man walked through the doorway into the kitchen to see a blond woman baking something from behind. Ivan hoped he wasn't interrupting something, but he also didn't want to accidentally startle her by just going through the cabinets near her without warning her that he was there. He rubbed his wrist awkwardly and coughed rather loudly. "Ex... Excuse me! Ma'am!"

Francis nearly jumped from the sudden cough from behind him. Turning around as the person spoke. he blinked at the female title given to him. It wasn't the first time he was mistaken for a woman, and he doubted it would be the last.

"Ah," Francis looked at the tall man, flower decorated his clothes and face. The Frenchman got a little too excited from being in the kitchen again. Smiling a bit embarrassed with his state. ". . . Allo?"

Ivan blinked in surprise and stared for a few seconds. Facial hair... THAT WAS A MAN! "Oh... um... Izvinitye, I'm s-sorry!" He shifted awkwardly, rubbing his wrists like a nervous wreck. "I... did not mean to... inter... inter..." He floundered for the word that he wanted. Damn English. "Interrupt you..." Well, at least he got the word... eventually.

He tilted his head to the side once he actually took in the fact that the man in front of him was covered in baking flour. "I... hungry..." Bits and pieces of the languages were easily forgotten, especially if the grammar didn't coincide with structures he'd been familiar with. Besides, the hour was late and he really needed to eat. "I thought that food would be here..."

(( Izvinitye = I'm sorry ))

Francis smiled. The (judging by the accent and little Russian he knew) Russian's look of shock and surprised was hilarious. But the Frenchman also felt kind of bad that it was in a way his fault that the Russian looked so...nervous?

He chuckled and then pointed to the stools behind the island.

"Food is here, camarade. You've come right on time for the first batch." Just as he finished speaking the oven to his left beeped. Francis let go of the bowl he was working on at the moment and then pulled on some oven mites.

The smell of freshly baked croissant filled the kitchen. "Please help yourself."

Ivan's eyes remained wide, but this time it was in awe of the yummy looking pastries before him. "I can... have these?" The tall man scurried over to the counter where they were set and had to restrain from just shoving the whole lot of them in his mouth. They were a bit hot still, of course.

He waited a few moments before essentially swallowing one whole. He chewed it enough to get down his throat without difficulty though. "Spasibo~" he chimed before munching more of the tasty treats. This... French guy was really friendly and generous apparently. Besides, who was he to turn down generosity?

(( Spasibo (Spah-see-bah) = Thank you ))

Francis had nodded happily when the Russian had asked again, as if to be doubly certain that Francis was okay with sharing the ten croissants he had just cooked. he turned around and grabbed a glass of wine that was on the counter behind, him. Turning back right on time to see the Russian swallow a croissant whole. Swallow it whole.

He blinked and then blinked again checking the plate before him, there was nine left, and each croissant was the about size of his fist. He stared at the man with some sort of awe.

After a moment, he decided to eat one, before this Russian decided to help himself through all of the delicious mouth watering bread. Francis took his first bite. And nearly died with culinary joy. He still has it!

After he finished chewing his first bite, he extended his hand for a shake. "I'm Francis Bonnefoie, I've just arrived today." He smiled kindly at the man before him.

Ivan giggled, having eaten three of the rolls. They were fantastic! He clapped his hands together in pleasure, much like a child who had just been given an entire chocolate cake and told he didn't have to share it.

"I am... Ivan Braginsky!" He took the offered hand and shook it, probably a little firmer than necessary, but he hadn't intended to cause harm. "I have... here worked for... three years." He stumbled over the grammar constructs again, but that was alright. The message probably got across.

"You cook... very well!" Ivan commented, shoving another croissant in his mouth. If it wasn't for his bulk, you'd think he was starved.

"Thank you for the compliment Mister Braginsky...Or may I just call you Ivan? In return of course I ask that you call me Francis." He smiled back at the man. It was very hard to believe he worked here...He just seemed to drip with childlike innocence!

"Good thing I have more in the oven then," he chuckled as he took another sip of his wine. The fruity mix with his bread danced on his taste buds, he blinked and then blushed embarrassed. "Mais ou sont mes manieres!? Would you like some wine?"


(Where are my manners!?)

Ivan nodded after a moment, having pondered the entire first-name basis idea. He supposed if it was mutual, that it would be okay. Besides, Francis had made him tasty food. "I think... Ivan Nikolayevich is... more appropriate, Francis~" he said. Unless they were really close friends or family, the first name and patronymic were better for friends or new friends to address each other by.

He blinked a bit at the thought of wine. He'd never actually had the stuff as vodka was more to his taste and what was generally available when he was growing up. Alcohol made with... fruit? "I... I guess is okay." He blushed slightly. What was he really supposed to say to such an offer anyway?

Francis poured him a glass, not a single drop was wasted, even as one started to roll down outside of the rim of the bottle Francis dragged his finger up and licked it. "It's very good, whoever bought it has good taste."

Francis thought over the name choices. It seemed rather complicated and honestly, he had already forgotten how to say that Nico-Niky-something. "I think I shall just call you, mon ami. My friend. In french you can call anyone that, but it still leaves a feeling onf fondness. And I do enjoy your company, you are...quite different from the usual crowd I have been forced to dine with." He chuckled as he gave the glass of wine to Ivan.

Ivan took the glass, grateful even though he'd yet to actually have alcohol that couldn't be mistaken for water visually. "That... works, yes?" After a moment, still looking a bit blankly at the wine in his hand, he spoke again.

"Tovarich," he said, "means... comrade. Fair, maybe?" He was still smiling to himself at the fact that Francis wanted to consider his a friend, but he pondered whether or not his word choice was right. After having suggested it, he decided against it. "Nyet, tovarich is not right word. Too distant, I think. I will... just call you Francis, like before. I am... glad we are friends."

After a small giggle, he tilted the glass back and drained it... having no idea what the proper manners for drinking wine were. At first, he stuck his tongue out, one eye squishing shut for a moment as he pondered the initially sharp, sour taste. "Tastes like grape juice that went bad... Different." It wasn't really to his taste, but he'd heard from others that vodka was like drinking liquid fire to them, so... He could appreciate the difference. "Spasibo, it was... a learning experi- expere- experience?" One day, English, one day... In the meantime, sleep with your eyes open, English.

The blond smiled a little at what the Russian said, "oui, I'd be happy if you called me Francis."

Francis nearly spewed out his sip from watching the way Ivan drank the wine. Coughing a little to clear his throat he looked at the Russian wide eyed. "You are quite welcomed, mon ami, but if this was a learning experience I would have taught you the proper way to drink wine." The Frenchman chuckled softly at himself.

He brought the glass to his lips, "drinking wine is a tradition in its own right." He stired the wine and took in it's scent. "But it's a unique experience everytime you open a new bottle." He took a small sip of the drink, he let the sip linger ontop of his tongue before swallowing. "You need to taste the wine, feel it open your taste buds." Francis smiled at the Russian. "And that's how you drink wine, mon ami."

(( Everything I wrote on how to drink wine is true. XDD ))

Tradition? Well, that was all well and good, but the actual understanding of what that meant went completely over his head... at least when it came to wine.

"Taste it? You mean... let it just... sit in your mouth?" Ivan squeezed one eye shut, trying to think if there was some hidden meaning in the words that he didn't get... some obscure idiom... All he could keep thinking however was that the richly coloured wine would mingle disturbingly with one's saliva. He visibly cringed, not wanting to think about that further.

(( and leave it to Ivan to look at it the wrong way ))

Francis watched Ivan's expression with light amusement and nodded in agreement to what the Russian just said. "As you said, you let it sit for a short moment, enough so that you can appreciate the taste. It's a small sip of course."

Francis repeated the action, to show an example. And then he pulled a small piece of the bread and took a bite of it, the bread stayed in his mouth for a moment he savoured the taste as he chewed slowly and then swallowed. Licking his teeth clean he smiled, "food is an art, and art must be appreciated."

((XD Poor Ivan, Francis will teach him how to appreciate food!!! >w