How to Make French Toast
A/N: I was totally inspired to write this while actually making french toast the other night with my husband. I thought the idea would be short and sweet. Hope you enjoy!
P.S. - If you like Lost/Suliet, check out my other (much older) account, HopelessRomantic225.
Disclaimer: I do not own Lost or the characters, but I frickin' wish I did.
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Juliet had no idea how James ever lived on his own. The man did not know how to cook. He could barely boil noodles. She found this out when she asked him to take over cooking duties for the night when Mike asked her to stay late at the motor pool one evening. She'd only been there three months but she wanted to do well and felt too guilty saying 'no' to her boss.
She came home to her roommate cussing up a storm, draining the noodles he'd boiled far too long into a strainer in the sink. He was sucking on his finger, so she assumed he must have burned it while trying to remove the pot of boiling water. She closed the door quietly, watching him for a moment, trying to figure out whether she wanted to risk laughing at him or not.
Juliet saw him taste a noodle before spitting it back out into the sink. It was at this that she held a hand over her mouth to stifle her snicker. He must have heard her because he whipped around, eyes narrowed.
"What's so funny?" he growled.
"Oh, nothing. Just… something that happened at work…" she bit her lip to keep from giggling further. She took her shoes off at the door, stripped her jumpsuit off and laid it over a nearby chair. Underneath she only wore a tank top and shorts but she didn't care. It was hot out and she didn't want to wear something that reeked of engine oil.
He growled again before adding, "You know, I'm only in this predicament cuz I was doin' you a favor."
She scoffed, pretending to be offended. "Me? You eat too, don't you James?"
"Yeah, fine. Whatever. Well, now dinner's ruined." He sounded genuinely dejected and she started to feel bad about her reaction. At least he tried. He tossed the overcooked noodles into the garbage can and put the pot into the sink. He turned and looked at her, putting his hands on his hips. "Now what? Wanna order Chinese?"
He looked dead serious and she couldn't help but laugh. Four months on the island and he hadn't yet made this joke. She didn't know what took him so long. Perhaps because he knew she didn't need the reminder that they were still stuck on this godforsaken island, versus being happy back in civilization.
"Actually, I had another idea. Why don't I teach you how to make something? Something easy?" she offered, hoping he saw her little white flag.
She joined him in the kitchen and leaned against the counter, waiting for his response. Without lowering his hands from his hips, he gave her a curious look. "Like what? It ain't gonna be somethin' stupid like a peanut butter sandwich, right? Cuz that'd be just plain mean. I can make a damn sandwich."
She laughed, and something in James warmed to the sound. He fucking loved making her laugh, he'd grown to realize. "No, James. I know you can make a sandwich. I was thinking something more… comforty."
"Comforty? Is that even a word?"
"Coming from a man who uses 'ain't' on a regular basis?" she deadpanned.
This gained the first smile of the evening from James. "Touche."
"And yes, something comforty. When I was a kid, breakfast for dinner was one of my favorites. I know we've had it here a few times but only when I'm feeling particularly lazy. I haven't had french toast in… well, in ages. How about I teach you how to make that?" She smiled at him, starting to get excited for the opportunity to have one of her favorite foods again.
He dropped his arms, leaned against the counter next to her, and looked down into her eyes. He could see the excitement there. How could he say no to that? She didn't need to know his mother taught him how to make french toast when he was 7. He didn't want to ruin this for her.
"Actually, yeah. That sounds great." He saw her face light up and felt that weird feeling in his gut again. What the hell was wrong with him? He'd been feeling these stupid butterflies for the last month or so, and he was starting to feel like a damn idiot. All she had to do was show any kind of positive emotion and he fucking swooned. Dumbass, she's your best friend, he would warn himself. But his own self-beratement got him nowhere these days.
She told him what ingredients to gather and they laid everything out on the counter. She put a wide, flat pan on the stove and set the heat.
"Okay so, it's best when you can use a thick brioche bread but we don't have that here, so we're just going to have to make do," she started explaining. He nodded, suddenly transfixed by how her blue tank top brought out her eyes. "First you make your batter, then you dip the bread in the batter, and lastly you cook it on the stove top. It's really easy." She smiled and started making the batter.
"So, my mom used to use cinnamon sugar and vanilla extract, but I've heard of people using other spices too, like nutmeg or even just plain cinnamon. But I like the extra sweetness added from the sugar."
"Imagine that, the girl who can put away a pint a' ice cream in one sitting likes things sweet," he drawled, teasing her. She rolled her eyes playfully before continuing. "Basically you crack an egg or two, depending on how much you want to make. In this case I can do two eggs. Then you add a splash of milk, your spices, and whisk it all together." She couldn't help but notice his eyes never leaving hers. Even when she looked down to focus on the task at hand, as soon as she would look back up, his eyes would still be trained on hers. The feeling in her stomach was reminiscent of butterflies, which scared her. She would not allow herself to get a crush on James Ford. Absolutely not. But the intensity of his gaze gave her shivers, and it had been a very, very long time since anyone had looked at her like that.
"Then what?" he asked. Had his voice suddenly gotten deeper? she wondered to herself. Also, had he gotten closer to her since she'd started her tutorial?
She cleared her throat before continuing. "Well, once the batter is whisked then you dip both sides of the bread in it. Like this." She demonstrated, and couldn't help but notice he wasn't watching. "James, you gotta watch if you're gonna learn," she reminded him, trying not to sound like a nag.
He chuckled. "I am, I am. Continue, Julia Child."
She then plunked the wet bread on the hot pan, and repeated the process with another slice, which was all that could fit in the pan for now. She didn't say anything as she waited for them to turn golden brown before flipping them over to let the other side cook. She then used the spatula to bring the pieces to a clean plate before saying proudly, "Ta da! French toast. Easy right?"
He nodded. "Good. Now it's your turn." She handed him the spatula and watched as he looked at it and back to her, then back to the spatula. "It's not gonna bite you, James. Try it." She smiled encouragingly, and James melted a little.
"Alright, fine. I'll do it." He grimaced at the cold, wet texture of the batter and wiped his hands on a nearby dishrag the first moment he could. Juliet giggled at his expressions, and watched him with care in her heart. This man had become her best friend on this damn island and she couldn't help but admire him as he carefully flipped the french toast over in the pan, with all the gentleness of a precocious child. He looked back at her, making sure she was watching him, and tried to gauge her face to see how he was doing. He didn't want to burn it, but wanted to make sure the egg cooked properly, too. After both sides were done, he flipped them onto the plate after hers and grinned in triumph.
"See? That wasn't as bad as you thought, right?" she asked. She was really proud of him for not burning it, and she rubbed his bicep gently in congratulations.
He hoped to God she didn't see the goosebumps that erupted all over his skin or see the shiver he experienced at her touch. This all was freaking him out. How had a cooking lesson made him so… nervous?
"Yeah, it was fine. I think I did alright. I didn't burn it."
"Exactly. Now, dip the last two and I think that's it for the batter. I'll start doing the dishes while those last two cook, okay?" She patted his upper back this time before turning towards the sink and filling it with soapy water.
James was frozen in place. His muscles almost ached for her to touch him again. The warring with himself was obsolete at this point; he knew which side would win.
Taking a deep breath, James did as he was told and finished off the last two pieces. He turned off the stove, and turned back towards Juliet. She was finishing up the last dish when he took another deep breath, swallowed, and placed his hands delicately on the back of her waist. He felt her freeze before she turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. Her eyes were wide, lips just barely parted.
And James went in. His kiss was soft at first, barely applying any pressure. He wanted to give her the opportunity to back away if she wanted to. But she didn't. She was still stiff as a board, but she didn't pull away. In fact, she leaned in a little harder. Soon enough, he had the courage to gently roam her mouth with his tongue, softly licking her bottom lip before finally breaking contact.
He felt dizzy. And she could barely breathe. Both kept their eyes closed for a full second longer than the kiss lasted. As they opened them, Juliet noticed the serious expression on James' face. At first she wondered if this was some kind of joke, but nothing in his face showed any playfulness. She couldn't believe he had just done that.
Finally she sucked in a breath and steadied herself by placing her hands flat on the edges of the sink.
"Uhm… what was that for?" she dared to ask, hoping and praying it was for the same reason she chose not to pull away. She'd wanted to, at first. But her mind and heart were at war and ultimately, maybe stupidly, her heart won.
He cleared his throat again, nervously running his fingers through his hair. "I figured we were makin' french toast, may as well do as the French do." He smiled at her, and she smiled back. Then the smile drifted off his face and his seriousness returned. "I don't know, Blondie. Somethin' in my gut made me do it. Been wantin' to do it a while, actually… I been tryin' to fight it, ya know… didn't know how you'd react an' all…"
And before he knew it, her lips were on his again. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he pushed her roughly back against the counter, snaking his arms around her waist. Their tongues met lightning flashed through his veins.
After a moment she pulled away, gasping for air. Both of their hearts hammered, and she laughed softly. "How's that for french, mon amour."
He laughed before tucking a loose strand of hair back behind her ears. "I'd say that was a good amount, but I wouldn't turn it down if ya had more in ya." His offer was plain, and she felt rooted to the spot, not knowing what to do. She swallowed hard, and looked into his eyes.
It had been a lonely few months for the both of them. It's not like this was ever going to grow into something more. What harm would meaningless sex have?
After what felt like hours, but could only have been seconds, James saw a small smile spread across her face. She took his hand and led him to her bedroom down the hall.
Afterwards, they ate their hard-earned dinner in bed, and James couldn't help but wonder what she would teach him how to cook next.
A/N: Ta-da! Aw, I love little shorts like this. Hope you enjoyed, too, and if so, please leave a review! They make me super happy!