Heart 2 Heart

[theamazingdalet]

SPN x Xenoblade 2 (Minis)

A series of shorts within this AU, mainly fluff and humour.

Part 1 | Balthazar's so-called friends needle him when he's grumpy.

---

“Addam’s...Embercakes?”

Balthazar hears Cass stop behind him and turns back towards the deli.

“‘A treat fit for a hero’!” Cass glances up at him, reading off the hand-lettered advertisement.

Balthazar rolls his eyes before they can glaze over. He’s stopped counting the slogans with “hero” in them; it’s every last one in the city.

“Excuse me?” Cass waves to the shopkeeper and gestures at the pastries. “What are these?”

The woman grins brightly and claps her gloved hands together. Despite the neatly-written “classic” right above the name, she clearly doesn’t mind explaining to a Blade. Customers are customers, and besides, he might’ve been born yesterday.

“These are our absolute bestsellers!” she assures Cass. “You want to know why?”

“Because Addam ate them?” Cass plays along innocently. “Is this his recipe?”

“Correct! Our ‘classic’ Embercakes are made with the authentic mix of spices Addam himself used 500 years ago! Not only did he eat them - this was his favourite dish!”

“Incredible!” Cass clasps a hand to his chest and turns to Balthazar, as though expecting him to indulge this farce.

By now, Hannah and Dromarch have followed their missing companions to the stall, and the shopkeeper generously overlooks Balthazar’s boorish disdain in favour of wooing the fresh faces. She spreads her hands on the countertop, looking back and forth between the other three and lowering her voice to something near conspiratorial.

“If you’ve ever read The Annals of Addam - available at Biblio Paulio - then you already know this, but Addam would eat one of these before every battle. It has just the right kick to warm you up, and get you on your feet!” She thumps her chest proudly. “Why, in my family we have one every morning! Always have!”

“Wow, that’s real dedication,” Hannah nods sagely and not at all sarcastically. “I’m impressed!”

“Although Addam never settled during his travels, he did not simply found this great country and abandon us to it.” The shopkeeper mirrors the nod solemnly. “He bestowed upon us many gifts to survive this harsh climate, up to and including our best staple foods. It’s that care - that thoroughness - that truly earns him the right to be called ‘hero’.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Cass agrees. “I’ll take one, please.”

“Two poached fruit samod for us,” Hannah raises a hand.

“And for you?”

“Er-” Balthazar half-uncrosses his arms, taken by surprise.

“He’ll take a prickly snowpickle,” Cass butts in quickly.

“Yeah, he prefers being cold,” adds Hannah.

The shopkeeper laughs.

Balthazar is, in fact, miserably warm.

 

---

They settle on a bench up on the outer rim of Elmos Square, a stone’s throw from the palace gates.

Cass unwraps his “classic” pastry and regards it for a moment before taking a large bite.

“Oh, this is spicy,” he pauses to murmur to himself, then digs in again heartily.

Hannah and Dromarch are absorbed in their fruity fish, and Balthazar sighs, absentmindedly tapping his knee until he remembers he is, in fact, holding his own snack.

“--wait a minute,” he blurts out, snowpickle halfway to his mouth.

“Hm?” Hannah lifts her head.

“Genbu wasn’t cold when Addam actually founded Tantal,” Balthazar reminds her. He gestures broadly to the people in the market. “Their own shenanigans did that later. So why did Addam have to teach them to survive this climate?”

“Oh no, Balthazar,” Hannah groans. “Are you calling false advertising? In Tantal?”

Even Dromarch seems to smirk.

“Har har,” Balthazar leans back and scoffs, lowering his voice. “I swear these people wouldn’t wipe their own asses without a story about Addam passing it down to them. Next they’ll be selling his own bog roll!”

Hannah stares into her meal and snorts softly.

“‘A sheet fit for a hero’,” she mutters. Next to Balthazar, Cass coughs ungracefully.

Balthazar sighs, somewhat deflated. “It’s just...getting on my nerves. They’re so proud of going 500 years without ever growing their own personality.”

“Look at it this way-” Hannah sobers up suddenly, gesturing with her fork. “They’re running their Titan into the ground just like Mor Ardain. Genbu’s dying, and then? their ‘pure’ history is finished, or they die, too. Until then - whether they deserve it or not - they’re just-- clinging to something to be proud of. Would you prefer they balloon their military and go out stepping on other people’s necks? Or the cheesy slogans?”

“Ah... hm,” Balthazar crosses his arms thoughtfully. “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

Hannah looks down for a moment longer, then shakes her head and nods towards Cass.

“Besides, don’t you think he looks nostalgic?” she asks Balthazar. “Maybe the food angle isn’t total crap. --Cass?”

“--mmnf?” Cass hurriedly swallows and wipes his mouth.

“What’s your verdict?”

“My...verdict?”

“We are debating the historical accuracy of Addam’s Embercakes,” Dromarch catches him up. “As our key eyewitness, we humbly await your judgement.”

“Oh, uh...” Cass stares at his last bit of pastry.

“Are the spices at least ‘authentic’?” Balthazar prompts him.

“Yeah, would this actually have kicked Addam’s ass into battle?” Hannah chimes in.

Cass’ mouth tightens and twitches at the corners. He sits up and takes a deep breath.

“Well, yes,” he says, finally. “Yes, it would’ve, in a manner of speaking-”

He pauses again, now clearly suppressing a smile.

“--because Addam... Actually, Addam couldn’t handle spicy food...at all.”

“What?”

“One bite of something like this?” Cass holds up his cake. “Would have him running for the latrine-”

“--what?”

“-lest he violate our international agreements against gas warfare.”

Several palace guards and unwary shoppers leap at the sudden howls of laughter from the tourists’ bench.

“And he just says that!” Hannah cries, holding her stomach.

“In the middle of Elmos Square!” Balthazar wheezes, head between his knees.

“My Lady--” Dromarch, himself not immune, attempts to interject, “If we’re overheard--”

“Yes, I believe a little decorum is in order here.” Azurda, jostled awake by the explosive fit of laughter, clambers onto Balthazar’s shoulders and attempts to shake some sense into his head. “Unless you wish to have us all arrested? Again?”

Not even Cass seems to hear him.

 

---

“Of course, it begs the question,” Dromarch speaks up once his companions can safely breathe, “where did these ‘Embercakes’ originate?”

“I told you,” Balthazar scoffs, “it’s meaningless marketing.”

“No, this one’s different,” Hannah counters. “Usually it’s inspired by Addam, and they stick him in the slogan. But they’re really convinced this is the exact food he was eating 500 years ago. Why?”

“It’s called lying.”

Hannah ignores him. “Cass, do you have any idea what this is based on?”

“I have no idea what this is or where it comes from,” Cass shrugs apologetically. “I’ve never eaten anything like it.”

“Huh.”

“That begs another, more interesting question,” says Dromarch, with perhaps a slight smile. “What was Addam’s favourite food?”

Cass smiles back, amused. “You do know we were an army on the move, right? We didn’t have a lot of room for personal preference...or good taste. Even for our ‘heroes’.”

“But you knew Addam personally,” Balthazar, more interested than he’ll admit, points out. “After the war, while he was traveling-”

“I didn’t know Addam before or after the war, actually,” Cass interrupts him gently, his voice somewhat quieter. “Sorry.”

“Er... no, I’m-- sorry,” Balthazar rubs his neck, looking down.

“I wonder who else would know...” Hannah muses, rather loudly, perhaps not wanting the mood to fall too far. She smiles wryly. “Maybe we should ask Mich--”

“Wait!” Cass nearly shouts. “Pan-fried tartari!”

Balthazar snaps upright. “Pan-fried--? What about it?”

“Addam just-- lit up at the sight of it!” Cass explains, smiling fondly. “That had to be something he loved.”

Hannah laughs. “He sounds like a big kid.”

Balthazar whips around. “What’s childish about pan-fried tartari?!”

“What’s your problem?” Hannah eyes him with poorly disguised amusement. “Wait, is that your favourite?”

“It’s--” Balthazar jabs a finger at Azurda. “The first thing this old fossil ever taught me was how to make pan-fried tartari. I’ve been making it almost every day of my life!”

“Azurda...” Cass raises an eyebrow. “Have you been roping humans into making your breakfast for the last five centuries?”

Azurda stomps his foot on Balthazar’s shoulder. “I do believe that’s a small price to pay for my considerable wisdom, don’t you think?” He turns to Balthazar indignantly. “And may I remind you that I don’t charge rent?”

“Charge rent for what, Mr Larval Stage?” Balthazar snarks. “Will you be my pillow?”

“You know, I’d love to try your pan-fried tartari,” Cass interrupts the family feud. “Though I suppose you’re probably sick of making it.”

“N-no, not at all--” Balthazar blinks, a little taken aback. “In fact, you know, over the years I’ve developed a number of my very own variations. You’d be amazed what happens if you, say, fry a little krabble along with it, or toss the veggies with-”

“It is your favourite!” Hannah grins.

“No, it’s my specialty,” Balthazar counters quickly.

“That is a remarkable similarity between your Drivers,” Dromarch says to Cass.

“I call it destiny,” Hannah coos.

“I will bury you,” Balthazar snarls, “in the drifts.”

“But surely, Castiel,” Azurda leans towards him, “if Addam enjoyed pan-fried tartari so much, then you must know how to make it as well?”

“Well, technically, but...” Cass glances away, smiling. “It wouldn’t be my specialty. Like I said, we weren’t exactly rolling in fresh ingredients. I can only make it one way.”

“That’s fine!” Balthazar insists. “I would love to try it all the same.”

“If that ‘one way’ is an authentic Addam favourite,” says Hannah, “then...yeah, I’m actually pretty curious, too.”

Cass looks at them all, rather stunned. “I don’t know if I’d call it ‘authentic’, so much as...really old-fashioned.”

“Oh, that would take me back...” Azurda crosses his arms and nods wistfully. “I, for one, would be delighted to have it the old-fashioned way,”

“If the authentic ingredients are available anywhere,” Dromarch points out. “It would be here in Tantal.”

Cass blinks at them, a modest smile sneaking across his face. Balthazar grins back.

“What do you say, Cass? Will you dish us out some real history?”

Cass’ smile brightens as he laughs. He stares at Balthazar, then Hannah, for a moment, as though to be absolutely sure they aren’t teasing him.

“Sure,” he says, with a final, earnest nod. “Let’s make some history.”