Title: The Way to His Girl's Heart
Fandom: X-Men Movieverse
Summary: St. John Allerdyce discovers the way to his girl's heart quite by accident. A kyro ficlet.
Kitty eyed the spread suspiciously.
"Goodness, Kitty. I can cook!" St. John Allerdyce glared at his girlfriend as he brought his teapot over to the table.
She sniffed at him. She did. The girl who could down their enemies with a single taste of her infamous blueberry muffins. The girl who scared off bad guys with her special, cannot-ever-cook superpowers and kindly-intentioned sense of hospitality.
He shook his head and scowled, but he did not allow himself to be distracted from his role as proper host. St. John had learned to cook from an overworked hotel maid he'd met on arrival in America who didn't mind feeding him if he kept the house clean and maintained. It was sheer survival. She taught him her entire repertoire (ten dishes and three beverages) and each only once. If he didn't get it, he didn't eat and that was that.
"Tea." He poured into the perfect little teacup on its perfect little saucer that Storm had generously allowed him to use. Kitty could eat safely enough. It was a warm, rich brew: his favorite chicory blend with a pinch of ginger, a dash of cinnamon, and a hefty dose of rooibos he'd bought fresh at a local market, all of it steeped in milk.
Finally, Kitty showed a little appreciationg. "This looks good," she admitted.
"It should," he replied and filled her plate with a selection of different crumpets: a tiny cinnamon apple sandwich, strawberries spread on rye, a ginger snap, and three of her favorite shortbreads.
"Did you make these all yourself?" she asked, still half-cautious to go with her half-salivating.
He nodded, sat, and helped himself, but his attention was fixed on her taste-testing each item with a tiny nibble. Her eyebrows swung upward. "This is really good." She took a tiny sip of the tea and those eyebrows went even higher. "Where'd you learn to make this?"
St. John chuckled at her then.
Kitty went on enjoying the repast, stealing little looks at him out of the corner of her eye while he pretended not to notice. He may have been romantic enough to make and serve her an evening meal, but he wasn't yet to the point where he wanted to spill his heart to her or commit himself more than necessary.
Nevertheless, he nearly spilled his tea when a he felt a small hand make its way into his under the table then hold on tightly. He opened his mouth to say something, stared at Kitty, who was doing an admirable job of pretending there was nothing more interesting in the world than her teacup and the Monét painting on the wall above the table, then closed his mouth again.
He glanced down at his own plate, then back at Kitty. She caught his look from the corner of her eye, smiled shyly, then focused back in on her cup.
Without saying a word, St. John Allerdyce ran his thumb over the back of her hand and squeezed back.