Juliette

twelve

ᴛᴡᴇʟғᴛʜ ᴏғ ᴀᴘʀɪʟ | ᴛᴡᴇʟᴠᴇ ᴏʜ ғɪᴠᴇ ᴀᴍ

William was cooking.

Or at least, he was trying.

By some miracle, diner patrons and people William didn't know but eventually knew he was sooner or later going to be introduced to, had started arriving at the diner at eleven forty-five. Juliette who was asleep, awoke to William cringing at the sound of chatter and had then offered to take them someplace quiet if he swore he knew how to cook.

William, who had too much to eat, too much to drink, and too much information to digest, didn't really have any option but to agree; seeing as Dexter, Jase, Juliette and Clayton aside, he didn't have many friends and was not exposed to so much people.

"Anything, just get me out of here," he said; and that was how he found himself burning bacon in the kitchen without Clayton nor Juliette to tell him what to do. "Fucking shit."

"William, those bacons that I've asked for, get it out of here!" Clayton called out, thumping his big hands through the gap in the wall where he was supposed to be shooting food the minute they were cooked. Unfortunately... they were overcooked and most definitely inedible.

"Coming!" William called out, flipping off the stove and hauling the burnt bacon onto a plate. While one side looked presentable enough, the other looked like the remains of a volcanic blast, and William could just softly hear Clayton's voice inside his head: Don't burn anything.

Well, shit.

In a heartbeat, Juliette was inside the kitchen and was bringing in a tray of dirty dishes. A scowl immediately plastered itself on her face and her eyes quickly flickered to William's direction. "What's that smell?" She laid the tray by the sink and went to stand beside William, looking at the slightly (read: definitely) burnt bacon strips. "William, you weren't supposed to leave them on the stove for that long!"

William bit his lip, the tips of his ears turning a bright shade of red. "The guide said to cook until golden brown—"

"That's not golden brown! That's dark brown! And you told me you knew how to cook."

William cursed. "Well, I didn't realise you were going to make me fry bacon strips. When I said I could cook, I meant preheat stuff in the oven, period."

Juliette rolled her eyes and then began to pick apart the bacon, trying to assess whether the dish was presentable or not. The strip wasn't even inside her mouth when she spat it out. "Jesus, this isn't even edible. How do you expect customers to eat this?!"

"With some understanding?" William offered. "I'm not the best cook there is, I know—"

"You're not a cook, period. Now, move aside and let me do damage control," Juliette looked at him sternly. "Meanwhile, serve the other dishes that don't need frying, and make sure you get them right."

William smiled at her gratefully and took to garnishing plates and serving non-fried orders. Thirty minutes came and went, and he found that while he was terrible at cooking, he makes an extremely charming waiter.