When Wings Break

Falafel and Honest Words (II)

"Mama says not to swear."

"Mama says not to swear," Saleh mocked. "You sound like a child, Arif. It's no joking matter. Whatever he wants, I've got Roan and a Viking," he ignored the voice telling him otherwise, "we'll corner that pansy on the alley and give him a good talking to."

Arif stared back at him for a long, drawn-out period. Saleh held his stance. He would do it. He caught Suleiman along his way for a Tuesday regular, same time every day. Saleh could easily lift the wingless cretin away. Maybe Orion could offer a little sea swimming lesson one cold morning.

Orion didn't even have to know it was pre-booked.

"What?"

"I taste blood lust," Raphael leaned backward to meet Saleh's gaze. His lips were lifted in approval. "I knew you're anything but boring, Saleh."

Saleh opened his mouth. His promise to Denise made him shut it once again. Arif smiled silently as he began eating again. Only when he'd swallowed did he say, "We talked. Before you call for a bat or some rope," he clicked his tongue and chuckled. "You and mama fit each other. She looks innocent until she starts plotting revenge."

Saleh had known that. He'd been young and new as he stumbled upon Arif's father trying to talk down his furious wife. She'd walked out of the kitchen with the most radiant smile, unaware of the perspective Saleh had since carried with him.

The backroom doors opened to reveal a junior chef. "It's a waste of your value!"

"What happened now?" Arif asked, frowning.

The black-haired Norm harrumphed but nothing could stop his direction, hands laden with a brown board carrying a single black bowl of soup and besides a saucer with a large round ornament Saleh could guess was Emilio's version of kuba. He was thrilled with playing with old recipes, a talent Babu Yusuf was wrought to ignore or embrace.

It left them with tiffs like these.

"No meal is a waste, no stomach goes unfulfilled, and no mouth," Emilio placed the board in front of Raphael, "goes without a taste of our finest. There is a..."

Babu Yusuf grumbled, huffed; his eyes watched the scene with the cunning insight of a man looking for an excuse to get his way. "Hm. One more failure and my dishes get the best scrubbing. Why you picked this one, I wonder. Why couldn't you pick Arif or Saleh? Or that tall dark other one. That- that- that one with from the coast."

He pointed at Saleh. "Roan."

"Roan! Bah! You go for the stiff one with no humility."

Raphael smiled. "Hm. I'll inform father of the new craze in... washed out barbeque holdouts?"

Baba Arif's cheeks turned a quick red. That was it. Saleh could see the bigger man hauling out the long-limbed slender quick-mouth out by the scruff of his collar. "If you so hated my washed-out barbeque hold out, sir, you'd never have stepped in here, would you? Hm. Blasted purple assed royals..." he walked off with that quip.

Saleh glanced at Raphael. He was smiling, satisfaction clear in his eyes. Emilio was not pleased. "Behave. You promised." Raphael and Emilio held gazes for so long, Saleh was sure they had forgotten about the rest of them. He was proved so when Emilio blushed, looking away. "How about we try this one? It's a new one I've been thinking of, a little Asian added in with a bit of Scottish."

Raphael pursed his lips and huffed. "As always," he picked up the table cloth folded neatly beside him. "When will you get it through your thick head? I don't eat any kind of food."

He didn't tuck it in. Arif cast him a look. "Any kind of food," Emilio growled. Saleh and Raphael both took a look back. Arif cast him another look.

"Later."

Raphael seemed to realize how wound Emilio was as well. Saleh expected the demon to push the weakness, to try and find something else. In the end, he huffed again. "Where do I start, then?"

Emilio closed his eyes. When he next opened them, he looked across at Raphael. "I'm sorry. I should not have snapped at you. There's no excuse for it. Will you forgive me?"

Raphael's gaze narrowed, his lips drawing lower in plain disgust. "Offend me less by completing my promise that I may leave these dredges once and for all. Where. Do. I. Begin?"

Emilio nodded. "I understand. Your first dish," he presented the first. He smiled as he spoke. "Kuba Compass surprise. I haven't decided on a name yet. And for your dip, Lemon Glacier-On-the-Horizon. It's a bit on the Lebanese side," Emilio leaned over and winked at them. "Don't tell Babu."

"I hear everything!"

Emilio jumped. All three of them laughed. "Please proceed."

As usual, Raphael picked up both knife and fork. He cut into the kuba first. Usually, the raw version was made of lamb and shaped into torpedo style, mixed with herbs and spices depending on the family. At home, grandmother made hers with all the spices on hand, which was quite a lot. If anyone didn't want a certain spice, she called out a warning when she was beginning and the person had to run into the kitchen and remove that certain spice from her shelf.

Saleh wasn't so sure Emilio's recipe was straight forward. Raphael pushed the bite-sized portion onto his fork, dripped into the sauce, something white with green flex floating around in colorless gravy. Emilio was an artist of flavor and sight.

Raphael bit and chewed. Emilio hang on with every second, the hope palpable in his eyes.

"Less digressing, I suppose. Hm," Raphael picked up the towel, brought it to his mouth, and spit it out. He scowled. "A waste of time." He placed the towel on the table, the motion significant to Emilio's crestfallen look.

"Oh. Um, thank you. I'm thankful you came regardless. Thank you."

Raphael's jaw ticked. "Hm." He was gone in the next moment, vanished into thin air.

"I don't get it," Arif asked, brows pulled down in a deep frown. "Emilio's meals are amazing."

"That's not the purpose," Emilio sighed. He began by picking up the towel. Emilio had to buy one every week, finely threaded and embroidered. Raphael would refuse otherwise. He looked down and Saleh watched it drop; seconds later the metallic ring of the bin sounded. In response to Arif's surprised look, he smiled gently. "It's the least I can do. Anyway, have anything you want specifically? I can get you some Mousel from the back."

"Yeah?"

"No!" Babu Yusuf bellowed. "Are you eating, children?"

Saleh picked back up his spoon, Arif behind him.

"Why?" Arif asked when they left the restaurant. Saleh checked his watch. Two more hours to his next class; Mama Jaiyana had called him for some assistance. In two more days, he would be leaving for his weekend with his lessons of the week complete. Tomorrow morning would suck, though.

"Emilio saved Raphael from gargoyles," he answered. "Son, or grandson, of Pride and the what-not." Arif gave him an expectant look. "Yeah, turns out when your blood sings the songs of sin, you can't be anything but that. Raphael could not comprehend how anyone wouldn't want a gift after saving him. Emphasis on him."

"Full of himself."

"Has a crush," Saleh walked onward, brown bag of Mousel unopened compared to Arif's nearly over pack.

He stumbled, coughed. "That one? Who'd he think so much better than him to admire?"

"Emilio."

Arif stared back, dumbfounded. "I can actually see it," he kept in pace with Saleh as they enjoyed the walk down the street. This part was busy enough that they had to adjust their angles to weave through people. "When do you think?"

About the time he secretly donated his kidney to save Emilio. "No idea," he shrugged. "Suleiman."

Arif stumbled again. He nearly knocked into an older blonde woman. "Sorry, sorry," he said, hands together as he steadied himself. She scowled at him, keeping clearly mean words as she walked onwards. "See what you made me do."

"Suleiman," Saleh repeated. "I've been thinking--"

"Oh, no. He's thinking."

"Shut up," Saleh smiled at the old rib. "You never said he teased you over the kiss. What happened?"

It was only when they arrived down the street that Arif finally said, "He kissed me back after about a week of puking my guts out," he shrugged when Saleh looked back at him. "Mh-hmm. Turns out, my crazy head? Not so crazy. He teased me because he thought I was cute for talking facts. That W-W-2 craze before? Really wanted to tell me his grandfather was part of it, gave him a tag where a bullet saved his life. Still wears it today."

Saleh couldn't move another foot even if he tried. "If you tell me he understood the Qur'an."

"Nope," Arif chuckled. "But he tried to after I teased him about it. Really cute when he tries to--"

"Argh! No. No, no, no. No more, the world's gone cuckoo!" Saleh closed his hands over his ears and refused to hear anymore. Arif laughed beside him, never offended when Saleh became a little more outgoing.

"The point is," Arif placed his hand on Saleh's arm and Saleh pulled them down. He met Arif's clear and assuring gaze. "I've gone full circle in s**t like this, Saleh. I know when it hurts to care about someone, and when it feels good to hate them. I can understand if you have any problem. I mean anything. Trust me, Saleh. I've got your back."

Saleh swallowed. Could he? He shook his head, offered a smile. "Look at you. So sappy," he tossed his arms around Arif, bringing the taller guy lower. "So big now, and so tough you can take on the world."

"Saleh!" Saleh rubbed his knuckles over Arif's head, cooing at him as he tried to let go. "Saleh, you i***t. Let go. Let go."

"Got your nose." Saleh tagged him before shoving him away. He unfurled his wings and flapped away, goading Arif to catch.

"You imbecile, eh?"