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Blood and Chocolate	By : christinecornell Category: Celebrities - Misc > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 15 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Based on my own predilections or not, this is still a work of fiction. by the way, you will get hungry reading this. Just, just just trust me on this.

Chapter List
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Every time that I made my way over to the rehearsal space for a round, I couldn’t stop thinking about the little encounter in the hallway with Alex. Even with the passing of time, I still could hardly shake it out of my mind, or out of my pants, for that matter. I knew what he wanted, even without his rightfully telling me.
I thought about making him another little Jewish dish, given Rosh Hashanah was upon us, and I had no idea exactly as to what he and his parents ate for the occasion, either. But I wanted to do it for him, though: I wanted to have him over for the night before the occasion, and then I could let him back to his parents for the actual New Year celebration.
It was right then I realized that I barely even got to know his parents. All I knew was they were insanely smart teachers, smarter than him which left me flabbergasted to think about, and of all his old friends in his neighborhood, they were the elders. When he first joined our band, and Lou and I asked him about influences growing up, he told us that he heard more Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin as a young boy before he found the Beatles and Kiss, where Lou and I listened to more Jefferson Airplane and Janis Joplin before we found Black Sabbath and Deep Purple together, a couple of Hispanic boys with nothing to do but listen to metal and play our guitars and drums all day while the fog rolled in. It was funny to think that of all the parents in the ‘burbs, they were the eldest, and their youngest boy happened to turn gray at a premature age.
Every so often, I thought about what he had told me as we were cleaning up afterwards, and the meaning of “blood and chocolate”, and moreover, what exactly possessed him to say that to me. I did want him to bleed for me, but I wondered about the “chocolate” part of it, though. It was almost like he read my mind before then. Not only did I find a notch in his proverbial armor, but I also found an avenue into his mind, and one that could, perhaps, come in handy for me at some point down the line.
Soon after, the fog began rolling more and more into the San Francisco Valley, and I was eager to have Alex and Lou over at my place before it started to grow extra cold for the winter. If there was anything that I could foresee happening with the advent of the cold, it was that we all could eat more. The thought of eating more, and in particular Alex eating more, tickled me to no end. I knew that boy could eat and indulge himself, and I knew that he loved whatever I made for him.
At some point, that winter, I was going to have to introduce him to something from one of my cultures: anything from Swedish meatballs paired with lingonberry sauce to enchiladas made from chorizo that I crafted the night before. I could foresee him having a perfectly round belly by the beginning of March. I could just see it happening.
But first, I had to make him something nice for the Jewish New Year.
And there was no way I could do that without asking the girl in the grocery store first.
It was early in the evening, and on a Friday, before any of the crowds came in for the evening. I was eager to track down Elle and seek out her advice for the special day, but I also started to wonder if she had any obligations herself, given that she, too, probably celebrated Rosh Hashanah herself.
I reached the produce department like from before, and the only person I saw in there was a black boy with short little dreadlocks all about his head before a couple of boxes of oranges and a box of avocados.
“’Scuse me, is Elle here?” I asked him once I came within earshot, to which he shook his head.
“Nah, she clocked out about an hour ago,” he replied as he put some oranges on the display shelf in front of him. “I can help you really quick, though, if you’d like.”
“One of my best friends is Jewish and I want to make him something special for Rosh Hashanah,” I explained. “You know, like—something other than matzo soup or anything that requires a lot of work.”
“I have to confess, I'm not all that familiar with Jewish holidays,” he told me with a slight shrug.
“It’s the Jewish New Year,” I said with a straight face. “But I have to confess that I’m too familiar with it, either.” He paused for a second, and then his face lit up.
“Oh, I see! Um... all I know what to tell you is matzo soup or some cheesecake. I wish you showed up here sooner when Elle was here: she’d show you some aces up her sleeve.”
“Do you know when her shift is?” I asked him as he set the empty boxes down on the bottom part of the cart between us.
“Um... well, she’s off for the weekend—probably for Rosh Hashanah—but she’ll be back early on Monday. I don’t really know her hours, per se, but I do know she’s here most of the week.”
“Okay, thank you. And—” I showed him a little smirk. “Cheesecake, you said?”
“Yeah. New York style cheesecake and—I think they have these little donut hole things filled with jelly for Hanukkah. I forget what they’re called, though. I've had them before but I'm drawing a blank on the name, though.”
“And that’s a way’s off, too,” I pointed out.
“Oh, yeah, Hanukkah’s not for—a couple of months, I think. Like I said, I'm not too familiar with Jewish holidays. I'll have to ask her next time I see her.”
“Well, I'll do some looking around for some cheesecake and I'll try my hand at it,” I vowed to him. “Thanks, my man.”
“My pleasure! If you’d like, I can also give you this—” He reached into the pocket of his apron and took out a few cards. “Sometimes, I work over at the bakery to stock up the cakes and the freshly baked things, and every so often, I'll take a peek at these.” He handed me one, to which I read it for myself, and I saw it was a recipe for New York cheesecake with raspberries on top.
“Ooh, thank you,” I told him. “If this doesn’t make me the favorite friend, I don’t know what will.” He chuckled at that, and after I thanked him again, I scouted out fresh raspberries and lemons from the shelf across from him, and then I looked around for graham crackers, unsalted butter, cream cheese, eggs, and sour cream. I already had the sugar and the salt and the flour back home.
All I needed was the silvery pan for the cake and some precious time.
The time on the card was not exaggerated in the least: it was going to take me a few hours just to get the whole thing off the ground. But I had that day off the next day and, in addition to this, Lou was there with me to keep me company before Alex showed up: apparently, Angie was in a bad mood that morning, and thus, we both succeeded in keeping one another company for the morning.
“You ought to slip Alex a mickey,” Lou suggested at one point, and I rolled my eyes at that.
“I’m not spiking his drink, Lou,” I scoffed.
“Well, you’ve found the notch in his armor, haven’t you? Surely, there must be a way around it all.”
“There is a way around it all and I'm not sure if you were leading me into a corny-ass joke here or not,” I said in a single breath, and Lou closed his eyes and bowed his head. And I chuckled at that as well, and then I returned to the cheesecake mixture before me.
I had no idea if I was making it right, but I was eager to make it all for Alex and the Jewish New Year. Lou then raised his head and sniffled the air a bit, even though it would be some time before I put anything in the oven.
“So, same as before with the matzo soup?” he asked me over my whisking.
“Same as before,” I said. “I might make more soup, too. A few nice little homemade things to warm up that little belly of his.”
Lou snickered at that, and I turned my head towards him.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just thinking about you and the whole thing with his belly.”
“I think it’s cute, okay? It's a cute thing to think about and I can’t stop thinking about it. I mean, you were literally right there right next to me when he ate all that soup, and he lifted his shirt for us. He was like a little dog after a big round of dinner, and that little roll on his belly makes me think of a puppy or a teddy bear.”
“Yeah, I guess it is kind of a cute thing,” he confessed with a nod and a slight smile on his face. “Kinda makes me wonder how it’s all going to go once we go out on tour together.”
“It’ll go well, Lou,” I assured him as I knocked the head of the whisk against the edge of the bowl. “I can promise you that.” I kept my gaze fixed on the bowl before me. It looked smooth enough, and thus, I could put it in the fridge for a bit and begin on the soup.
“You know, now that you say it out loud,” he started again, and I turned once more to find him perched on the counter opposite to the oven. He had lifted his shirt and exposed his bare skin for me. He had a flat, washboard of a belly with the ever so slightest bit of muscle tone there, and when he ran his fingers right across his waist, he let the tips slip into his belly button, to which he gasped at the feeling.
“Yeah, it is kinda—kinda hot,” he told me with a slight raise of his head for a look at me.
“Because our belly buttons are technically scars,” I explained with my hands on my own belly. “There’s also a lot of nerves here.”
“Vital organs, too,” he added.
“And vital organs, yeah! I just think of all the times I've been tickled here in the past, now that you mention it.”
“There you go,” he said as he ran his index finger around the rim of his belly button. “We’re hungry boys, too.”
“We are,” I said. “We all are. A bunch of a hungry boys who live in a place that gets so cold at night this time of year.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at that.
There was a knock on the door, much to our surprise. “That’s probably him,” I told him, as we both dropped our shirts, and I ran my fingers through my hair, and Lou bowed back to the front door. He opened it up and cheered as Alex had in fact arrived, and I had yet to start up on the matzo soup as well.
But he strode into the room, with those black curls sprawled all around his shoulders as if someone had spilled ink over his head and the entirety of his upper back. The little plume of gray over the right side of his forehead seemed so wispy and so light, as if a little cloud had emerged in an otherwise blue sky. And speaking of blue, his eyes seemed a lot brighter than usual as well. For that day, he wore his “Tune It or Die” shirt, a long black T-shirt with the skull and crossbones on the front, and a pair of guitars made up the bones underneath. By the look of it, Alex had kept his weight steady this entire time, but the bottom hem of that shirt fitted his waist the tiniest bit more snugly, whereas, the last time he wore it, it hung off his body like a towel on a rung. He closed his eyes and tilted his head a bit for a whiff of the kitchen, even though I hadn’t put anything in the oven as of yet.
“Oh, man, I bet what you have in store for today is going to be divine, Eric,” he told me. He lowered his gaze and locked eyes with me, a crisp whiff of fresh air to my soul. I glanced down at his waist, while Lou watched on from behind him. Now that I looked on at Lou especially, I lowered my gaze to Alex’s legs, and the snug way in which his jeans fit him at that moment. It was only a few pounds, but I knew that it was only upwards from that point forward.
“Happy Rosh Hashanah, by the way,” I announced to him with my arms wide open for him.
“Hey, yeah! Happy 5747, my dudes. Starts the very second the sun goes down today.” He flashed me a wink. “Good vibes all around, and good tithings, and—” He rested a hand on his stomach. “Good appetites, too.”
“Eric’s making a big cheesecake, Alex,” Lou declared.
“And a big bowl of matzo balls, too,” I added.
“It’s like you guys want me to get big,” Alex joked as he rested his hands on his waist, and Lou and I both chuckled at that.
“Nonsense!” Lou assured him. “We want you to be happy and healthy—”
“Slim and gorgeous,” I added with a gesture to his body. Although, I couldn’t help but picture him with a little round chubby belly on his body, a full thirty or forty pounds heavier. I knew he would look good. He could be chubby and gorgeous, and I would be laughing all the way there.
“You know who we should have over here for dinner sometime?” Alex suggested right then.
“Who?” I asked him.
“Dave. From Slayer. He’s Cuban, so—you know. I just think of Latin flavors and whatnot.”
Lou and I glanced at one another at that.
“Do we even have Dave’s number on hand, Eric?” he asked me, and I shrugged.
“I can always call up Chuck and ask him to call up Tom since we’re supposed to tour with them next year,” I said in a single breath. “You know, a little game of telephone that way. If neither of us is doing anything tomorrow, I can make us some enchiladas.”
“Would you?” Lou asked me, taken aback.
“Yeah, would you?” Alex joined in.
“I would! I'll whip up some chorizo before we go to bed tonight and then I'll get a move on after breakfast tomorrow.”
“What’d you have in mind for breakfast?” Alex asked me, and I hesitated for a second. Hanukkah was a way off, but that wouldn’t stop me.
That shouldn’t stop me, to be honest.
“How ‘bout donuts? That donut shop isn’t too far from here after all.” Alex squinted his eyes at me, and right behind him, Lou brought a hand to his mouth to stifle a giggle. The cat was out of the bag at that point, and they could both see it in my eyes. If I could see it with them, they could see it with me.
“Something tells me I'm going to be glad that I didn’t eat breakfast this morning, Lou,” Alex declared right then, to which the two of us gasped.
“You didn’t eat breakfast!” Lou demanded.
“For shame, Alex,” I teased him with a shake of my head, and he chuckled at that.
“Yeah, I just had a cup of coffee and a piece of toast,” Alex answered, and he held his arms before the middle of his body. It was right then I noticed the lack of blush in his face, as if his skin had washed out with the thick blanket of fog lingering around the valley for the day.
“Man, you’re gonna be so hungry by the time the soup’s on,” Lou told him.
He grimaced back a bit, and I wondered what he was playing here with us.
“I didn’t really eat breakfast because I'm watching my weight,” he told me.
But I knew what he was up to, especially in my own experience with it all.
“Are you really?” I asked him.
“For real,” he promised me.
“Don’t you want something to eat right now?” I offered him with a gesture back to the kitchen. “It’s gonna be a while before we sit down to eat dinner.”
“I’ll just take some water and maybe a banana later on,” he replied, and he shook his head. “I’m good for the time being, Eric. Really.” I squinted my eyes at him, and then I doubled back to the kitchen for a glass of water and a little apple from the fruit bowl on the counter. When I returned to the living room, he and Lou had taken their spots on the couch together, and all the while, Lou raised an eyebrow at me, as if he, too, could read my mind.
I didn’t buy it at all. He barely ate anything all day, and thus, his stomach would be absolutely rumbling in agony come sundown and dinner time. In my experience, whenever I did that, I always ate more. I wondered if he knew what he was doing at all, or if he was messing with us.
Either way, it was just another step in the game between me and him, with Lou as my witness.
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Blood and Chocolate