Human Design | Sirius Black

vii. Hide the Imperfections, Pretend Everything is Okay

THE AUROMA OF fresh cooking filled the kitchen and relaxed Reece more than he thought he needed at that moment. He liked the rules and steps of cooking, that as long as you followed the recipe one couldn't go wrong 

Reece loved to cook. Initially, he had only learned it because it was always his chore, it was what he was assigned to be responsible for around the house since they'd never had a house-elf and his parents both worked long hours.

It was something he thoroughly enjoyed. It was therefore that even though he was of age, he still chose to cook without using any magic (well he used some magic, like heating a pan to the correct temperature or cleaning up if he spilt something). 

It was the combination of seeing the fruits of his labour in physical form and the instant gratification that made the act too pleasant to him – it wasn't like studying that would take two years until exams to actually pay off or Quidditch that was full of uncontrollable variables and constant changes in the progress. When he made food, he could watch the result materialise as something real (and not an abstract thing like grades), and then he got to eat it right afterwards.

But Yrsa seemed less enthusiastic. She sat on a bar stool on the other end of the counter, a magazine open in front of her though she wasn't looking at it. "Do you have to put olives in?" she whined.

"The recipe says olives. It's literally called 'skillet chicken with green olives'," he replied.

She didn't seem to think that it was a valid reason. "But you're making it, you're in control, you could just not put them in."

With a shrug, he said, "Maybe you should just learn to like olives," a small smirk tugged at his lips.

"Yeah, I guess I could do that," she said. 'Or you could just not put them in." Yrsa turned back to the magazine in front of her, turning the page, then a second time. Reece, who was waiting for the chicken to brown and rice to cook watched her over the hob and bar counter before glancing at the clock above her head. Their parents should be home within fifteen minutes and she wouldn't find them to find her in the kitchen looking through a Muggle fashion magazine if all things, but he was cut off from pointing this out to her because she picked the magazine up and turned it toward him before he could. "Do you think he's fit?" She was referring to the male model in the two photographs. On one page, he lay on a smooth rock with his head on a female model's lap, but on the other, he was alone. There, he wore blue jeans and a white shirt that was almost completely unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A Calvin Klein ad, as expected.

Reece felt his cheeks burn and instantly occupied himself with checking the state of the chicken. "How the fuck would I know? I'm not fucking bent, am I?" he snapped heatedly.

"Merlin's fucking beard," she said in the kind of voice that made the listener think she was talking to herself but really she was talking directly to them, a carrying whisper intended to be heard but not responded to, "I didn't say you were gay, I was just asking for your opinion. You can tell if someone is attractive or not without wanting to shag 'em." This didn't help the blush searing into his cheeks because she was right and him being defensive could be read as suspicious and he didn't want her to start getting any ideas because if she thought he was gay ... well, she would never let it go. It was like how militaries got war criminals to confess to things that weren't true just for the torture to stop; Yrsa's nagging being the torture in said scenario. "Like I can say right now that Olivia Andrews is really fit, doesn't mean I'm planning on having sex with her when we go back to school."

Thankfully, she had reached the end of sharing her two cents and returned her full attention to the magazine. Slowly, Reece felt the flush on his cheeks fade. He glanced at the time again, turned the chicken over, and then returned to the clock having already forgotten what it said. It was nearly seven. "Aren't you supposed to be studying?" he asked timidly.