Benedict looks amused and then laughs at his own joke, which he realizes isn't very cool at all, and then he realizes that he's stupidly flirting with a man who isn't interested in him at all. Silver's just polite.
"If I see on tomorrow's blog that it says exactly what I ate for dinner, then there'll be no denying it."
Silver's response is to curtsey, complete with a hand twirl. It's overdramatic and a touch ridiculous, but he's trying to see that crooked smile that had surfaced when the other laughed at his own joke.
He can't help it.
"You've caught me," he teases. "Whatever will I do, now that I'm at your mercy?"
The flat is starting to smell impossibly good with all of the things Silver is cooking. Benedict realizes for the first time all day how hungry he is. Apparently tea and cheerios isn't enough to fill him up (how odd), and he's sort of delighted that he won't have to order fish-and-chips for the night.
"I should hope so, or I've been lying on my resume."
Silver's chuckle is real, loud and pleasant as he continues to fuss over the pots and pans. It's mostly about the timing, especially when it comes to meal preperation. Silver's fairly decent and getting everything done with alacrity so he can either start his next job or get out of the place if it's an unpleasant clientele.
Maybe he'll slow down just for a little, but he also wants to impress Benedict. Just a little.
“God, no. Not in any big ones, I mean. I’ve got one in a smaller showing - my friend, Henry, owns the gallery so it’s more of a kindness than a great accomplishment.”
If he were more satisfied with his work as of late, Benedict thinks he’d have asked Silver if he wants to see something. But that’s a bit childish, he decides, like a kid who wants to show off a drawing, and he doesn’t think he has anything particularly good right now anyway.
"Humour me," Silver says instead, offering an easy, relaxed smile as a timer goes off. One brow quirks up, keeping eye contact for as long as he can before he has to grab the oven mitts and take Benedict's dinner out.
Benedict isn't sure if he's blushing, but he certainly feels like he is.
"If you're certain. Before you go, I can show my studio - I've got a painting drying, actually." And it's by no means great, he thinks, but it's perhaps more impressive than a simple sketch. "But being interested in my hobbies isn't a requirement, you know."
"If you'll show it, I will see it." Silver can't help his smile--it's mostly because he's positive the other is blushing, and there it is, that little crooked smile that Silver has decided to make his mission going forward to tease out of the other in any way possible.
Benedict imagines his mother wouldn't quite like that. She's both very progressive and very much about etiquette all at once, and he imagines that she'd think it unbecoming to be so personal so soon in an otherwise professional relationship. But Benedict thinks that Silver can't be that much older than him, anyway, and if the man's going to be spending a couple days a week at his home then he may as well be a bit familiar.
"Benedict," Silver corrects, and he's not sure if he should also point out that most people call him his last name without a 'Mr.' attached. That's probably too forward: while Benedict has the ability to essentially do whatever he wants, Silver still has to be moderately careful.
He begins plating the small salmon meal he's made for the other, all the while keeping an eye on what's already on it's way and cooking.
"Pinot Noir goes best with salmon," he explains, "unless you'd rather I pour you something else?"
"Surely you're already doing so much. I think getting you to pour my wine would be crossing some sort of line. I've got my water, anyway." Benedict wiggles his sparkling water a bit.
But now he's got dinner, and he's wondering if he should take it to the table to eat. He wants to just eat it here, at the counter, but that's quite poor table manners. Besides, Silver has plenty going on that maybe having Benedict leave him alone for a moment would be a relief.
"But I'll remember that when I'm eating the leftovers at around midnight," he adds, teasingly.
"Not crossing a line." Silver can't help but smile, and even if he breaks his rule of always keeping busy, he stops what he's doing to look at the other, smile in place.
This is the first time he can ever recall something being so natural, so easy. It's alarmingly nice. Is it always like this for most people? Not just someone from Benedict's status--is this how it is for someone like Billy? Just talking to people and almost forgetting everyone has an ulterior motive?
"A night person, then? Can I expect a 2am call for pasta?"
Benedict isn't actually much of a night person. The parties do run a bit late now and then, and sometimes he gets caught up in a project, but he thinks that otherwise he'd probably go to bed at a reasonable hour. Still, it's easy to keep playing coy like this (are they flirting? Benedict can't quite tell) when Silver keeps playing right back.
"I couldn't possibly. You work three jobs, and maybe you'd be occupied making someone else 2am pasta."
"That's a service I provide," Silver says simply. "If you call, I come." Sometimes it can get dicey timing-wise, but Max is usually forgiving about the strange hours and there was one point where Flint had actually paid for Silver to make something at his own house and sleep. He thanked him later, of course, but was far too proud to admit he needed it at the time.
He's not sure he'll actually take advantage of such an offer, but a large part of Benedict wishes he was bold enough to. If only he had the courage of some of his siblings.
"Whatever my mother is paying you, you probably deserve more."
Speaking of - He has a delicious salmon dinner sitting in front of him, so he takes a bite so Silver knows he's not ignoring it.
"Oh - Mm." Benedict nods as he chews and swallows. "I'd absolutely petition for a raise."
Silver's entire face lights up the moment he gets Benedict's approval--there's something about the way anyone enjoys his food, yes, but seeing it in realtime versus being stuck in the kitchen is infinitely better.
It's the reason why he won't pare down his jobs to two. He enjoys moments like this far too much.
"Simple to make. I'll add it to the list," he assures, and there's a flash of a grin that he can't hide, feeling giddy.
“Simple for you, maybe,” Benedict says in between bites. “I’d turn this salmon into charcoal probably.”
Or undercook it and make himself ill, which seems more likely. Besides, if he could cook for himself, he’d have no need for this wonderfully handsome gentleman.
"Anyone can cook," Silver assures, "I'm just here so you wind up with proper portions and to help you focus more on honing your skills."
He pauses for a brief moment, just an ounce of hesitation, before he looks up at the other with a half-smile.
"Quite literally. If I may speak plainly, the woman who hired me--your mother, I believe--was very insistent that I cook for you both to ensure you don't order in every day and also to make things smoother to 'allow you to reach your full potential.' I'm assuming she meant your paintings."
"Indeed. A mother like that is awful hard to come by." There it is, that flush again, and Silver's firm on the notion that Benedict just might be the most attractive person he's ever seen. He's got a boyish charm to him, innocent but curious, refined without being off-putting. His smile is perfectly imperfect.
"At least, I was under the impression it's rare for a family in your social standing to care."
Was that overstepping?
It probably was. Silver occupies himself with adding the spices he's brought to hide his hesitation.
“I think people are usually surprised we’re not dysfunctional.” Benedict doesn’t think it’s overstepping, so he keeps up the conversation to help Silver feel less intrusive.
“My mother was a bit hesitant when I told her I wanted to study the arts. But she came around. I don’t have the same mind for business as my brothers.”
Big family. An ideal life--supportive parents, too. His girlfriend's probably perfect as well, although judging from nothing too feminine being in his flat, perhaps the other's single.
It's a nice thought to entertain, though he's probably straight.
"How fortunate," he says, and he finds himself actually meaning it. His smile is softer though, pleased. "If you'd like a family dinner, do let me know."
Benedict looks up from his plate and raises his eyebrows.
“Actually - My sister, Eloise, is coming to stay with me this weekend for a workshop she’s attending in the city. I think she’d be suitably impressed if you could put together some sort of stir fry.”
He smiles out of the corner of his mouth, knowing it’s well within his place to ask but feeling awkward doing it anyway.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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Benedict looks amused and then laughs at his own joke, which he realizes isn't very cool at all, and then he realizes that he's stupidly flirting with a man who isn't interested in him at all. Silver's just polite.
"If I see on tomorrow's blog that it says exactly what I ate for dinner, then there'll be no denying it."
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He can't help it.
"You've caught me," he teases. "Whatever will I do, now that I'm at your mercy?"
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The flat is starting to smell impossibly good with all of the things Silver is cooking. Benedict realizes for the first time all day how hungry he is. Apparently tea and cheerios isn't enough to fill him up (how odd), and he's sort of delighted that he won't have to order fish-and-chips for the night.
"I think it'd be a very delicious death, though."
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Silver's chuckle is real, loud and pleasant as he continues to fuss over the pots and pans. It's mostly about the timing, especially when it comes to meal preperation. Silver's fairly decent and getting everything done with alacrity so he can either start his next job or get out of the place if it's an unpleasant clientele.
Maybe he'll slow down just for a little, but he also wants to impress Benedict. Just a little.
"Do you have your art in any galleries?"
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If he were more satisfied with his work as of late, Benedict thinks he’d have asked Silver if he wants to see something. But that’s a bit childish, he decides, like a kid who wants to show off a drawing, and he doesn’t think he has anything particularly good right now anyway.
“Henry humours me, truly.”
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"If you'd allow it, anyway, I'd love to see."
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"If you're certain. Before you go, I can show my studio - I've got a painting drying, actually." And it's by no means great, he thinks, but it's perhaps more impressive than a simple sketch. "But being interested in my hobbies isn't a requirement, you know."
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"Do you drink wine, Mr. Bridgerton?"
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Benedict imagines his mother wouldn't quite like that. She's both very progressive and very much about etiquette all at once, and he imagines that she'd think it unbecoming to be so personal so soon in an otherwise professional relationship. But Benedict thinks that Silver can't be that much older than him, anyway, and if the man's going to be spending a couple days a week at his home then he may as well be a bit familiar.
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He begins plating the small salmon meal he's made for the other, all the while keeping an eye on what's already on it's way and cooking.
"Pinot Noir goes best with salmon," he explains, "unless you'd rather I pour you something else?"
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But now he's got dinner, and he's wondering if he should take it to the table to eat. He wants to just eat it here, at the counter, but that's quite poor table manners. Besides, Silver has plenty going on that maybe having Benedict leave him alone for a moment would be a relief.
"But I'll remember that when I'm eating the leftovers at around midnight," he adds, teasingly.
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This is the first time he can ever recall something being so natural, so easy. It's alarmingly nice. Is it always like this for most people? Not just someone from Benedict's status--is this how it is for someone like Billy? Just talking to people and almost forgetting everyone has an ulterior motive?
"A night person, then? Can I expect a 2am call for pasta?"
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Benedict isn't actually much of a night person. The parties do run a bit late now and then, and sometimes he gets caught up in a project, but he thinks that otherwise he'd probably go to bed at a reasonable hour. Still, it's easy to keep playing coy like this (are they flirting? Benedict can't quite tell) when Silver keeps playing right back.
"I couldn't possibly. You work three jobs, and maybe you'd be occupied making someone else 2am pasta."
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"Artists get top priority."
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"Whatever my mother is paying you, you probably deserve more."
Speaking of - He has a delicious salmon dinner sitting in front of him, so he takes a bite so Silver knows he's not ignoring it.
"Oh - Mm." Benedict nods as he chews and swallows. "I'd absolutely petition for a raise."
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It's the reason why he won't pare down his jobs to two. He enjoys moments like this far too much.
"Simple to make. I'll add it to the list," he assures, and there's a flash of a grin that he can't hide, feeling giddy.
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Or undercook it and make himself ill, which seems more likely. Besides, if he could cook for himself, he’d have no need for this wonderfully handsome gentleman.
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He pauses for a brief moment, just an ounce of hesitation, before he looks up at the other with a half-smile.
"Quite literally. If I may speak plainly, the woman who hired me--your mother, I believe--was very insistent that I cook for you both to ensure you don't order in every day and also to make things smoother to 'allow you to reach your full potential.' I'm assuming she meant your paintings."
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“I’m very lucky to have such a wonderful mother. She’s always been supportive of us.”
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"At least, I was under the impression it's rare for a family in your social standing to care."
Was that overstepping?
It probably was. Silver occupies himself with adding the spices he's brought to hide his hesitation.
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“My mother was a bit hesitant when I told her I wanted to study the arts. But she came around. I don’t have the same mind for business as my brothers.”
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It's a nice thought to entertain, though he's probably straight.
"How fortunate," he says, and he finds himself actually meaning it. His smile is softer though, pleased. "If you'd like a family dinner, do let me know."
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“Actually - My sister, Eloise, is coming to stay with me this weekend for a workshop she’s attending in the city. I think she’d be suitably impressed if you could put together some sort of stir fry.”
He smiles out of the corner of his mouth, knowing it’s well within his place to ask but feeling awkward doing it anyway.
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"Of course I could," he smiles. "Are you purposely making it easy for me?"
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Benedict smiles back, completely lost in how effortless and nice Silver’s own smile is.
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