Assassin's Creed High-School

Cooking Club

The kitchen was an utter disaster.

Well, not the entire kitchen since the classroom had been divided into six separate cooking stations, but Shay’s, Ezio’s, and Malik’s assigned area was in disarray – and unfortunately, you had been grouped with the incompetent trio.

It wasn’t one of those cute little disasters either which the commercials on television like to depict. No. This was like a full on warzone; a blob of something discoloured bubbled on the ceiling, black smoke seeped from the oven, the bottle of canola oil was tipped over onto its side and its contents spreading across the counter and dripping onto the floor, and one of Shay’s eyebrows had been singed – too bad the flames didn’t take that awful pornstache.

A cookbook sat open on the counter but none of the ingredients seemed to match the recipe on page.

Malik whacked the other two male students over the head with a wooden spoon, “I told you, novices, not to dump all the ingredients in at once.”

Ezio’s lower lip juts out into a pout, “Why are you only looking at me when you say that? Shay was in charge of the ingredients.”

“Yes, but like an idiot, you didn’t stop him.”

“I didn’t think I had to. Besides, I think our soup came out rather well.”

“Rather well?” He scoffed and lifted the bowl of soup. “This soup is so dry, Altaïr could swim in it.”

The two begin to bicker, switching to their native tongues – you wonder if that was so they could be as rude as they liked without the teacher overhearing. Meanwhile, Shay was peering into the reflective surface of a pot, dabbing at the spot his eyebrow used to be with a damp tea towel.

The sponsor – Stephane Chapheau – is preoccupied with another group, so rather than approach him to apologise for your tardiness, you scamper towards your assigned group, dropping your bag on a nearby table. “What the hell happened here? It’s only been...seven minutes,” you say after checking the clock at the front of the classroom.

Malik exhales harshly through his nose and shoots an accusatory glare at the other members of the group. “These two happened. They don’t listen to a single instruction I give them; why did you even join this club?”

Ezio looks at him as though the answer was obvious. “Women love a man who can cook.”

“True, but what you have here is a new form of poison.”

“You’re over exaggerating.”

“Is that so? Then by all means, prove me wrong.” He jerked the wooden spoon free from the taffy-like concoction on the stove and held it in front of Ezio’s face. “Go on then.”

Your nose crinkles as the foul smelling monstrosity inches closer to Ezio’s lips; you wouldn’t say it aloud but whatever they made looks like something one would scrape from the sole of their shoe with a long stick.

Not wanting Malik to be proved right, Ezio opens his mouth without an ounce of hesitancy and chomps down on the spoon.

Big mistake.

Those charming facial features contort in revulsion, and you swear you can hear his tastebuds screaming for mercy. The Italian student whirls towards the sink and spits the food from his mouth, muttering what you can only assume are expletives in his native tongue between bouts of coughing and spluttering.

“I believe I have made my point,” Malik says with a growing smirk.

You’ve never seen someone become so delighted at having been proved right than Malik in this very moment.

Ezio’s groan is brimming with pain as he forces himself to straighten up, covering the masticated remains with a tea towel, like one might a corpse. “I don’t spend much time in the kitchen.”

Such a confession wasn’t necessary as his lack of cooking knowledge was blatantly obvious.

There was something about this scenario which didn’t make sense though; you can’t help but turn your confusion to Shay. “Wait, you know how to cook,” you accuse. “You made breakfast for me just the other day.”

“He made you breakfast?” Ezio pipes up, but you focus on Shay providing a slight shrug.

“My Mums taught me how to make a few dishes so I wouldn’t starve to death when they’re at work, but I’d like to learn more recipes on my own. Imagine how surprised they’ll be when coming home to find that I had managed to cook dinner for them.”

You had to smile at his reasoning for wanting to improve his culinary prowess; both his mother’s had fairly demanding jobs – one was a Sergeant in the police force and the other taught Mathematics at Aberdeen Academy – and couldn’t quite keep up with the household chores. At least, that was the case when you were younger, which is what led to Shay spending the majority of his afternoons at your house. You always felt sympathetic towards him because he didn’t get to see his parents as often as you did, but he never once complained. He would always speak about being able to help out with the chores once he was old enough so that his parents would have more time for him – you sincerely hope his plan was working.

“Why was he making you breakfast?”

Confusion flittered in Ezio’s honeyed orbs when the three of you rolled your eyes, clearly not understanding such a reaction to his question.

You look at the cooking station that had been assigned to your group and sigh. Such a mess. The entire area needed to be cleaned before they could begin cooking again, but where to even start?

“Okay,” you say after a moments contemplation. “Let’s all work together and get this station cleaned. From there, I can teach you guys how to make a sandwich so simple, even Ezio can make it.”

Shay and Malik snickered as Ezio’s bottom lip jutted out into an adorable pout.

You let him know that you were only having a bit of fun, which seems to improve his mood – well, it was either that or the fact that you had given his chest a reassuring pat and had yet to remove your hand.

You smile at him. “Let’s get cleaning, yeah?”

»Fast Forward»

Cleaning had taken far longer than it realistically should have – Shay and Ezio had spent the majority of the time screwing around and competing in silly competitions you still didn’t understand the reasoning behind. Malik was the only one truly helping but eventually he, too, got distracted. Though he was mostly chastising the other’s for their laziness.

The other groups were already halfway through their chosen recipes. You knew it wasn’t a competition, but the idea of finishing after everyone else irked you in a way you didn’t think possible – maybe it was because cooking was something that you were good at. No, great at. That’s it. You were great at cooking, and you knew you were capable of creating something mouth-watering if given the chance. And this club...this club provided an opportunity to do that. And to share your talent with others.

You place your hands upon the wooden carving block and exhale slowly, eyes skimming over the ingredients spread out across your station; a transparent plastic packet labelled free-range chicken breast, onions, sourdough bread, chilli powder, limes, fresh parsley, cilantro, one avocado, tomatoes, cumin, chipotle, one block of provolone and one of pepper jack, and finally some arugula.

Ezio brings one of the limes to his nose and takes a whiff, “I thought you said this was going to be a simple recipe.”

“I know all the ingredients look rather daunting,” you say, “but it’s simpler than it seems. I’ll show you.”

The trio of males invade your personal space to watch as you set down a few tomatoes and onions on the carving block, “First we’ll prepare the pico de gallo.” You begin chopping the selected vegetables into small, perfect cubes, the speed and precision of your movements earning a noise of intrigue from Ezio and Shay.

“Malik, do you think you can begin grilling the-"

Your sentence goes unfinished for Malik had taken it upon himself to cook the chicken breasts without being asked. A smile replaces the surprise on your face, Malik catching your eye and mirroring your expression.

“This isn’t my first time in front of a stove.”

“And it shows.”

Knowing Malik didn’t require any supervision came as quite a relief; your focus can be distributed equitably between the other two currently sneaking pieces of ingredients into their mouths.

“Shay, Ezio, listen up. Here’s what I need you to do...”

»Fast Forward»

Shay’s brows furrow in concentration, the tip of his tongue poking out ever so slightly from one corner of his mouth as he plates both sandwiches as artistically as he knew how, which, to be honest, was nothing more than cutting them diagonally and laying the pieces against one another.

Once done, he stepped back to allow Ezio access to the plate.

The Italian student was rather chuffed with himself as he began to artfully arrange the sweet potato crisps he had made all on his own – sweet potatoes thinly sliced then fried until crispy and lightly salted.

“Thomas Jefferson, Neil Armstrong, and now (Y/N) Stillman,” Malik smirked slightly. “By teaching these two idiots something useful, you’ve made history, (Y/N).”

You couldn’t help but giggle, doing it behind one hand with the foolish idea that the other two wouldn’t hear it. “Too bad we’re not in the Medieval era; bards would sing of my achievement in every tavern.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for a pat on the back.”

Malik’s smile is warm and full of good humour as he gives your back an amiable pat...but then his hand lingers. Even through the fabric of your shirt, his hand is warm, solid. The innocent gesture sends a pleasant shiver down your spine. It didn’t mean anything, you knew, but it still had you blushing. After all, when was the last time an attractive guy had touched you so casually, intimately?

Ezio startles you by speaking with an impressive amount of enthusiasm, “Do we get to eat it now?”

“Ah, yeah. Yeah, you guys, dig in.”

They didn’t need to be told twice.

Shay is vocal from the first bite, moaning through a mouthful of food whilst his eyes flutter to a close. Malik bobs his head as a sign of approval but remains silent, munching on his half of the sandwich and the sweet potato crisps simultaneously. And Ezio...he leans against the counter with his sandwich clutched possessively in both hands, cheeks protruding and a dopey smile on his face.

“This,” he practically croons, raising the sandwich slightly, “this makes me very happy.”

The most satisfying moment will always be this one right now: the consumption of the meal. To be able to watch as people’s eyes light up, their lips curl upwards in delight, all because of a meal you created.

It was magical.

You pick up the final slice of the sandwich and smile, enjoying the meal with your friends.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This concludes the club segment of this book - now we can get back to the main story. I hope you all enjoyed these last few chapters, if not, I apologise!