Work Text:
Keller carefully adjusts the greenery surrounding the candle centerpiece on Bacara’s dining table. Shifting things just enough so that it doesn’t look squadless, but stopping well before anyone would think he’d taken up fussy interior decorating with Fox. Edee may have adopted the Marine, but that doesn't mean Keller cares any more about aesthetics than before. (Surgical sutures are the one exception.)
“The Circles have really improved,” Daan says, nodding toward the delicately carved and conifer shaped candles in the center of the design. “A nice, subtle pine scent this time.” (The Circles are a squad of recently-adopted baby Novas who have gotten real into candle and soap making. They mastered colorants and shapes quickly. Scents have taken… longer. There is an entire workroom at the Marine Lodge that is still airing out three months later.)
Keller chuckles. “Tangent and Chord were practically vibrating with pride when they dropped them off this morning.”
Daan grins, “And definitely didn’t try to come up with a reason to stay and help, I’m sure.”
“They were very helpful.” Bacara counters from the otherside of the waist-high cabinet that separates the kitchen from the living and dining area of the house. He doesn’t try very hard to hide his smile as he carefully bastes the roast with rendered juices. “Volunteered if I needed any more hands in the kitchen.”
”Out of the generosity of their hearts, I’m sure,” Rothax snickers, returning a jar of something or other to the chiller.
“With absolutely no intention to lord it over their fellow Novas,” Krestor adds with feigned innocence while dusting flour onto the kitchen countertop he’s using as a warmed appetizer workstation. (No one bothers to mention he ends up with a streak of flour running through his hair. Keller will have so much fun tormenting him with that later.)
Everyone chuckles.
Tonight Bacara and Rex are celebrating their anniversary, just the two of them, with a menu worthy of any galactically renowned chef.
Bacara’s current exploration into the world of personal hobbies has led to an interest in roasted meats and delicate pastries. The Novas are thrilled to see Bacara discover new aspects of himself, but equally pleased to reap the very tasty rewards of his endeavours. (It had taken him four tries before he was satisfied with his recipe for Eeopie Mandalorianton. Four delicious tries that had been devoured by whichever Marines happened to be at the Lodge when he brought them. The number of lingering Vode has trebled in recent months)
But while Bacara was perfectly happy to share his results and solicit feedback (Keller thought they made a rather suspect opinion base after so many years of rations and experimental bushmeat. There had been that one season everyone thought pickled moss was a delicacy…), he was surprisingly reluctant to have an audience while he was working.
Naturally that meant everyone was tooka curious and determined to be the first to succeed in catching the Marine at work.
”How many brothers do you think just happened to be at the spaceport to help Bossi deliver the shipment from Jet?” Daan asks, painstakingly folding handwoven cloth napkins into flowers as he fusses over the place settings.
Keller snorts. “Enough that Jet offered to fly them over because they wouldn’t fit in Bossi’s speeder?” He’s only half joking. He and Krestor have a bet on whether or not Jet actually shows up to sneakily worm his way in now that he’s back on-planet.
Bacara huffs good naturedly. “I do not see why watching me cook is so interesting.”
Krestor and Rothax share a glance, both trying not to laugh. There isn’t a vod in existence who doesn’t appreciate watching a master at work.
Bacara has planned this labor of love with all the focus and dedication he once directed at battlefields. Keller is deeply amused, and maybe secretly just a little squishy soft about it. Bacara of Nova of Vode has come so far from The Marine Keller met on Kamino, though he’ll deny it vociferously if asked.
Torrent Command, including their Jedi, has been enlisted to keep Rex suitably busy and out of their house for the day, a task they took to with their usual chaotic enthusiasm and utter lack of subtlety. He personally hunted and butchered the squeal hog that supplied the roast that is now smothered in spices and slowly cooking in the indoor, winter season oven. (The rest of the hog was distributed via a highly contested lottery and will probably show up in various forms at upcoming holiday meals.)
There was also a ridiculously complex chain of favors, fish and labor hours organized so Bacara could get his hands on locally grown vegetables, dairy, herbs, spices and anything else he needed for this dinner. (Keller had thoroughly enjoyed the circuitousness of the exchange process. If there wasn’t an underground market for herbs and spices on Concord Dawn before, there is now.)
In fact, the only items Bacara had not locally sourced were wine, cacao nibs, and caf beans. Those he had special-ordered from Alderaan, with a promise from Jet to deliver it no later than today. That was Bossi's mission at the spaceport, to serve as delivery vod.
Other than some minor decorative assistance from Keller and Daan and some sous cheffing from Rothax and Krestor, Bacara is also the sole preparer of the meal. He has everything timed with all the precision of a frontal assault. Keller has seen surgical instructions less detailed than Bacara’s dinner plans.
“Special delivery. Just for you, boss!” Bossi announces, casually kicking the sliding glass door closed behind him as he strides into the house with a large container in his arms. “Jet sends his regards, but he stayed behind to keep your admirers busy while I slipped out the back,” he says with a laugh as he sets it on the sofa.
”Bastard,” Keller mutters under his breath, setting the credits he now owes a smugly-grinning Krestor on the countertop, well out of the way of the puffed pastry he has been painstakingly been cutting out between trips to the freezer. (Bacara had gravely informed him that cutting the pastry only when it was frozen was required to produce the sharpest, puffiest edges.)
Bacara is too interested in unsealing the container to do more than chuckle, happily humming when he pulls out two bottles of a purply-red wine. “I have read that 3245 was an excellent year on Pantora. Doom assures me it will pair well with the squeal hog.”
Bossi grins impishly. “Everything pairs well with squeal hog.”
Bacara shoots him a smile as he shifts protective packaging around to pull out a bag of caf beans. He peels open the seal and draws a deep breath. “Felucian After Latemeal Roast. It is grown on the sides of equatorial volcanoes.”
He passes the bag around for everyone to smell. Keller goans embarrassingly at the heady scent, entirely jealous that he won’t get to drink the exquisite caf that these beans will brew. “You sure you don’t need to brew a sample?” he offers transparently. “Just for quality control?”
Daan snorts, only for one sniff to completely change his tune. “Keller has a point. Maybe we should double check.”
Bacara smirks and carefully takes the bag back and sets it delicately on a counter before going back to the container and rummaging through the packing. ”I know better than to trust medics when it comes to caf.”
Keller harrumphs. “Commanders are hardly ones to talk,” he mutters, dodging a swat from Rothax for sneaking a bite of cheese from the charcuterie board as he walks past. It’s really good cheese.
“You are both. That makes your opinion doubly suspect,” Bossi counters. “I, on the other hand, am neither and would make an excellent quality inspector.”
“Would you, now?” Bacara asks with humorous skepticism as he starts to uncover an item encased in packing foam, a puzzled frown on his face. He finally unwraps a metal tin.
There is a pregnant pause, one loud enough to stop all work and banter, as Bacara just stares, flabbergasted. “These are beans.”
Bossi leans around Bacara’s shoulder, “‘Captain Osa’s Alderaanian Cocoa-Spiced Chili Bean Stew’,” he reads, confused. “I thought you ordered cocoa beans. Not bean beans.”
“Gourmet quality cacao nibs for the pie. From Kashyyyk. They are Rex’s favorite.” Bacara mutters, looking crestfallen.
”I take it we can’t just drain the beans and add them in with some other type of chocolate?” Daan asks, and Keller can tell he’s playing dumb to break the tension.
”This is why you are on table decor,” Rothax deadpans as he fiddles with the layout of the charcuterie board for the dozenth time, He has been rearranging the design of the hard cheeses, cured meats, and pickled vegetable pieces, carefully leaving a large hole in the middle, ever since the vegetables went into the oven to roast along with the meat. “You cannot add actual beans to a pie.”
”What about savory pies? Those can have beans,” Krestor interjects with an angelic smile, as though he’s being helpful and doesn’t still have flour in his hair, before he carefully tucks the soft cheese he’s wrapped and decorated in the pastry dough back into the freezer.
Keller glares, playing along as Bacara starts to relax. “We are not discussing savory pies. If you want to make a savory pie, buy your own tin of beans.”
”If I do, I won’t share with you,” Krestor smarms dramatically, and then turns serious. “Someone has to have other types of chocolate around here. What about one of those?”
Bacara pouts. “Silk pie requires nibs. Any other form of chocolate will be too sweet and overpower the subtleties of the pastry cream.”
Keller is certain anything that subtle will be lost on a Torrent, captain or not. But instead of saying so, like the helpful vod he very rarely tries to be, he makes a genuine suggestion. “Caf beans? You do have fussy caf beans.”
Bacara’s side eye is one for the record books. “They are not fussy caf beans. They are Felucian After Latemeal Roast.”
”You are planning on serving the pie after latemeal,” Rothax notes, drawing a roomful of snickers and an impressive side-eye.
”What’s so special about cacao nibs?” Bossi asks, sauntering into the kitchen with the tin of beans and prowling through cabinets until he comes up with a bag of corn crisps. “You need these for tonight?”
Bacara shakes his head in answer to the crisps, before addressing the first question. “Cacao nibs are fermented and roasted cocoa beans. Before they are ground to make chocolate. Nutty and toasty. Not just chocolaty. And these are the best.”
Keller can’t hold back this time. “How did Captain Torrent become so attached to these snooty cocoa beans?” he asks skeptically.
Bacara smirks, before hiding it in his beard. “Seventeen. He shared with Rex.”
Keller barks out a laugh. “I should have guessed.” Seventeen’s post-war discovery of the bougie life has provided endless amusement among the Alphas and CCs.
“Seventeen was picking up a couple of crates from Jet too. Maybe he ordered some nibs of his own?” Bossi offers, dipping a crisp into the tin of beans and crunching thoughtfully. “These are good beans.”
Rothax reaches for a crisp, dips, chews, and nods. “They are. The cocoa really adds something.”
Bacara watches as the two munch on crisps and beans, an increasingly suspicious look on his face. “When did Seventeen arrive?”
Bossi pauses long enough to finish chewing. “He was there when I got there.”
Keller walks over to the couch as Bacara flips the shipping container upside down and starts checking the seals.
Bacara huffs, pointing at the carefully resealed seam, and grabs his comm.
“You stole my nibs,” he states as soon as the call connects.
”Did I, now? That seems highly speculative,” Seventeen drawls.
“I want them back.”
Seventeen sounds entirely too pleased with himself when he answers. “I might have a bet with Six. To win this hypothetical bet, I might be in need of holos of this meal you’re making for Rex. Specifically holos of you preparing said meal. You know, to establish which of the in-laws is your favorite. Hypothetically.”
Keller is laughing so hard he sits down, both at Seventeen’s diabolical scheme and at Bacara’s grumpy tooka face. If his ears were anatomically able to go flat, they would be horizontal.
”Bring the nibs.” Bacara demands and ends the call. He stands still for a moment, smirking. “This will require retribution. Tomorrow.” He pauses, “Make sure to eat all the beans.”
Everyone laughs, gleefully eating cold beans and crisps until only the empty tin remains. (Bossi’s right. They really are good beans. Keller makes a note of the brand.)
Seventeen must have been waiting for the call. He and Jet arrive ten minutes later, entirely smug, as the Novas tuck the evidence of their little snack out of sight.
”Ha! Pay up, vod!” Keller barks, holding out a hand to a grumbling Krestor. “I knew Jet would find a way to get here.”
Jet grins mischievously. “How could I resist?” He immediately walks over to the oven and sniffs deeply. “If there are leftovers, I call dibs.”
Bacara scoffs. “No leftovers for you, Winder,” he says, punching Jet in the shoulder.
Jet just laughs, returning the punch.
Seventeen ignores them and sets a shiny foil bag on the counter in front of Bacara. “Cacao nibs. Just for you. Now tell me about this satin pie.”
Bacara glares, but there is a hint of laughter in his eyes. “Silk pie. We need a cutting board.”
Keller makes a point of taking holos as the pie is finished. Bacara chopping nibs, slapping at Jet and Seventeen’s hands when they try to steal a swipe of the pastry cream, when he carefully pipes whipped cream onto the top of the filled pie just before it goes back in the chiller. (Keller’s personal favorite is Seventeen and Krestor grimacing and frantically shaking their hands after trying to steal a bite of the roast just as it came out of the oven. He might frame it and give it to Bacara for Windfall.)
Bacara’s comm chimes, announcing the impending return of Rex and his Torrents, just as the soft cheese wrapped in pastry comes out of the oven. The delicious scent of toasted herbs, melted cheese, and golden brown pastry fills the kitchen as Krestor carefully scoots it off the baking sheet and into the center of Rothax’s ruthlessly arranged charcuterie board.
Jet carefully scoops spoonfuls of piping-hot roasted vegetables into a serving bowl. Bacara instructs Rothax not to stop stirring the pan sauce while it reduces, as he slices and arranges the roast onto a serving board.
Seventeen uncorks the wine while Keller lights the candles and sets trivets and serving utensils on the table. Daan starts the wood burning stove for warmth now that the oven has been turned off.
They are just finishing as headlights announce Rex’s arrival. Seventeen, grabbing Bacara in a tight hug, whispers something Keller can’t hear but makes a hint of color show on the Marine’s cheeks.
Keller and Krestor quickly herd everyone out the backdoor into the dark and cold, catcalling teasing good nights.
“You’re taking us to the light rail,” Rothax declares, heading directly to Seventeen’s immaculately detailed speeder.
Seventeen grumbles, but immediately shuffles his shipping containers around to make room. They are pulling away from the house when he asks, “Anyone remember to grab the beans?”
The Novas just laugh.