No Life Kid 13A

Steam hissed from a sauté pan, the kitchen alive with the smell of rosemary, onions and fish as the chef of the house went to work. Blue eyes tracked her from burner to burner, Alexis rushing through the cloud from each pan on the fire. A blonde valkyrie navigating her preferred battlefield, she did it all wielding Japanese chef’s knives shinier and more expensive than most engagement rings. Arms crossed as he leaned against the doorframe, Zander just watched the show, his head chef nearly as aggressive in the kitchen as she was in a fight. Damn near interrogating the ingredients till they confessed their flavor.

“Temperature on the salmon?” A crisp voice, dry as the salmon wasn’t, rang out over the sounds of frantic cooking. Walter Barnaby Dunham stood at the far end of the kitchen, door swinging behind him as he adjusted his white gloves with the usual level of care.

“As if it’d be anything other than perfect, old man!” Alexis didn’t even look up, her hands near a blur as she arranged greens on a plate. “Though I can’t understand any of this being necessary at all. The lass isn’t royalty, Walter. She’s a teenager and a Yank. She’s probably used to eating fish breaded and sliced in squares.”

“Miss Stanley deserves our best effort.”

“Aye, but she also deserves not to be intimidated by a dining room that belongs to the bloody fuckin’ Queen,” Alexis clicked her tongue, cloth in hand as she wiped a smear of sauce from the rim of the plate. “You’re gonna scare the girl off if she thinks she doesn’t know how to curtsy.”

“I don’t know, she’s a quick study.” Zander shifted his weight, floorboards creaking under his boots as he adjusted his blue tie.

Again.

Third time in three minutes, even. 

The silk was a designer noose, the matching suit itself not all that different from being tied up with ropes. At least, it felt like that. Honestly, as much as he hated the Canadian look… denim sounds kinda nice right now.

“How’s it looking?” 

Alexis spun around, hands scrubbing themselves clean on her apron. The scar across her cheek nearly touched her lip as she smiled, the buff blonde woman as excitable as ever. “Like something that’ll either impress her senseless or send her running for the hills, Master.” 

“Indeed.” Walter nodded.

Alexis grunted in the old man’s direction. “Walter’s determined to serve a seven-course meal like we’re hosting a bloody duchess. I told him a fuckin’ roast chicken would’ve done the job, but no.”

The butler clicked his tongue. “Language, Miss Armstrong.”

“Bite me, Walter.”

“The presentation reflects on Master Cray’s household.” The butler stood up straight, spine so stiff it could be used as a ruler. “It is a statement of intent.”

“Intending to try too hard clearly.” Alexis shook her head before turning to Zander directly, the drudge lowering her head slightly. “Don’t let the silverware do the talking for you, Master.”

“Right.” Zander pushed off the doorframe and turned around on both his Renfields, the angel and devil on his shoulders still bickering as he walked towards the dining room. “Okay. No pressure.”

His steps were slow, Zander adjusting his cuffs and links as he ignored the arguing following him through the large hallway. By the time he reached his destination, blue eyes barely widened as he let out a low hum at the sight of it. Oh, Walter.

The Weatherell House had always been grand even before the renovation; thick cedar beams, majestically high ceilings, and windows that looked out onto the endless grey of the Pacific Northwest a lateral move from the Cullen’s modern mansion. Even still, Walter had somehow transformed the already elegant dining room into a sparkling set piece. Zander’s hands trailed the tablecloth, eyeing the crystal glasses as they danced under chandelier light. 

“Master Cray…”

Zander didn’t raise his gaze as Walter stepped into the room, the manservant arranging a vase of white lilies not too far from a set of beeswax candles in silver holders, the light from them casting long shadows across dark wood walls. “Walter.”

“Far be it from me to overstep,” Walter stepped closer, “but you seem unusually concerned about this evening’s success.”

“It’s different when it matters, Walter,” He smoothed his dreads back in the mirror, the silver-backed surface making it harder but not quite impossible to catch his own image. “If I’m gonna be here for as long as I intend to be here, and I’ve already spent this much time with Jessica, then she’s gonna become…”

Zander paused, eyes glowing back at him.

“Someone you care about.” Walter finished for him, but he wasn’t done. “Is she not already, Master?”

The eternal teenager let out a silent sigh, no breath actually leaving his lungs. “Yeah… I guess she is.”

“Then everything must be perfect.”

A neat eyebrow raised itself high as Zander turned around to stare at the butler, hands adjusting his necktie again. “I’d like everything to be real, Walter. I don’t want Jessica feeling like it.”

“The dinner service is prepared to elite specifications, Master Cray,” Walter stepped back, gaze dropping to Zander’s chest. “However, might I suggest you attempt to moderate your supernatural mannerisms during the meal? You have been moving with a certain… velocity.”

Zander froze, following Walter’s eyeline just to realize — oh — just to realize he’d tied his tie in under a second. “Right, right. Slow. Clumsy. Human.”

“I wouldn’t quite say that, Master, bu-” A gong ran through the house, deep resonant and loud as it cut off Walter mid-word. The butler blinked, turned toward the entrance immediately. “I’ll g-”

“No, Walter.” The master of the house raised a hand to wave him down, cutting the man off as Zander already started heading toward the front door. “This one’s me.”

“… of course, sir.”

As Zander reached the front door, he took an unneeded breath for a single moment before swinging open the heavy oak door.

“H-hi!” Jessica Stanley stood on the porch.

“Hey, Jess.” Stepping back from the entrance, Zander allowed her in his home. “Welcome back to Casa Cray.”

His eyes trailed down Jessica’s body, taking in what she had on. Damn. Cut just high enough to be interesting but low enough to meet the parental approval standards of Forks, it was simple and sleek. It also helped that she was wearing heels that made her almost tall enough to look him in the eye.

Speaking of her eyes…

They were wide and uncertain as she took in the foyer and sweeping staircase; the second time she had been here and she still acted like it was the first. “It’s still insane being in here.” Her words were almost a whisper. “Like, you actually live here? All of this? It’s like… Zander, do you have a dungeon? Because this is where the villain lives in every movie.”

“No dungeon.” Zander grinned the lie out, before smiling through a sigh. “I mean, kind of, but it’s just a really big basement.”

Walter appeared at his elbow, silent as a ghost. “Good evening, Miss Stanley. May I take your coat?”

“Oh!” Jessica jumped as soon as her eyes flicked over to Walter. “Yes. Thank you.”

“A pleasure, miss.”

Walter took the coat with a bow, walking away as Zander offered his arm. “Shall we?” Jessica took it, her fingers gripping his bicep tight enough that he could feel her pulse through the fabric of his suit jacket. 

He led her into the dining room, Jessica almost letting go a few seconds later as she stopped dead at the doorway. “Ohmygod…” Three syllables came out in one low breath.

He blinked her way, hiding a smile. “Something wrong?”

Jessica’s eyes slid over to him before snapping back to stare at a table that looked set for a state dinner more than anything else. “Zander. Seriously? Is this what breakfast before school looks like for you too?”

“Honestly?” Zander pulled out her chair for her, Jessica sitting down with her eyes still wide as the plates in front of her. “I could eat dry cereal over the kitchen sink in my boxers. Walter insisted on the full production. If you ask me, I think he’s trying to impress you.”

She looked down at the array of forks in front of her with a half-open mouth. “Tell him it’s working?”

Zander sat opposite her, letting the smile slip out a bit. “I can tell. By the way, just ignore the extra spoons. Use the ones on the outside first and work your way in. If you get it wrong, just glare at Walter until he apologizes.”

Jessica let out a giggle, the sound bright and nervous in the quiet. “I don’t think I could glare at Walter. He looks like he could kill me with a napkin.”

“Walter would never.” Now, that wasn’t a lie at all.

Mostly, because Walter would use a sniper.