Poppy's Blush

Tomatoes, Potatoes, and Poppyseeds (II)

CW: mild nudity

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"That's quite the glamour you've got there. You're not worried about attracting attention?"

In any other part of the city, the sight would have chilled Poppy to the bone. However, this area was designated as neutral territory. Turf disputes were as illegal as any other act of violence. Here, a werewolf was too interesting not to approach, especially when he seemed particularly friendly towards curious strangers. He was a huge beast, stood up on two legs, with a slight hunch to his back. His muscular neck ended in a perfectly friendly, canid face, that smirked at Poppy's question.

"It's not a glamour actually! And nah, have you seen how people make animatronics or fursuits nowadays? Nobody thinks I'm real." The werewolf grinned.

"Werewolf magic, huh? So... I'm guessing you're big into D&D or something? These fruits going to fill my mana bar?" Poppy ventured with his own smirk.

The werewolf's eyes seemed to sparkle at the jest. He turned away with a dramatic gasp. "Hey, if I'm not there to herd the sheep on my farm, then who would be?!"

Poppy snorted as he laughed. "Alright, alright, Face Ripper of Doom. Can I get a selfie?"

The werewolf made a peace sign as he leaned over, positioning his face close beside Poppy's. Poppy stuck out his tongue and made one to match. That easily became the single most interesting photo in his phone.

"So, what's the deal, anyway? I haven't seen you here before. Are you a mascot for the store?"

"As of last week, yep! My family and I came up with the idea for marketing. Not that we particularly need it, but I'm not complaining. Getting stares from kids and pictures with cute customers sure beats standing around at the register." He shrugged as he gave the boy a wink. "What about you? I've been working here for a while and I've only seen you once or twice."

Smiling into the flush in his cheeks, Poppy briefly explained his new position at his uncle's cafe. "And I wouldn't be caught dead buying these ingredients at Picky Pantry, so, here I am." He bounced once on his toes for emphasis.

Suddenly, the werewolf cocked a brow. "Ingredients? What'cha cookin'?"

Poppy glanced away. "Attempting something called shakshuka."

"Well shit, why didn't you say so? My family's from southern Spain! I practically grew up on the stuff. Hey, quick tip: add chorizo. Apparently a lot of people make it without meat, but that's... totally messed up to me. Trust me on this." He paused as he gave Poppy a moment to laugh and promise to pick some up on the way home. Then he tilted his head, a coy grin spreading over his literally wolfish features.

"Actually, how about I give you my number? You know, in case you have any questions?" he offered.

Now Poppy raised a brow. "Oh yeah? Well, I have to admit, I'm still a pretty crappy cook. I suppose having a coach couldn't hurt."

And so Poppy browsed the display boxes while the werewolf stepped into the shop to hunt down his phone. A moment later, Poppy had a half full basket, and the employee returned in human form.

He could see now that the werewolf thing indeed wasn't just an elaborate glamour. The light patches of the lycan's coat were in roughly the same places along the man's tan skin, even throwing a white streak through his dark, styled hair. Even in human form, his stature was a bit imposing, tall and broad-shouldered, still a bit beast-like. But his playful grin ruined the illusion as he approached again. 'Puppy-like' might have been a more apt description, Poppy thought.


With his shopping done and a new contact in his phone, Poppy walked home slowly to get the most out of the afternoon sun. As per the lycan's recommendation, he'd picked up a pack of chorizo, hopefully of a decent brand. That evening, he'd do the prep work, then give this recipe his all.


It was a disaster.

Well, maybe not a disaster, but it definitely wasn't good. Thank goodness for the chorizo; it, the feta, and the egg made for little pockets of flavour among a sea of tasteless, sad tomato sauce. The sad kale added a nice texture, sure, but a sad texture with no taste to accompany it. It made for a sad, unpleasant experience. Poppy was sad.

Before he'd eaten his plate, he'd taken a photo of it. At the very least, it was a very pretty dish, but he'd held onto the picture until after his verdict before sending it to anyone or posting it anywhere online.

The first contact he pulled up, of course, was the expert's.

"Andrew... It's awful. I request your wisdom..." Poppy texted, sending the photo along with it.

"WHAT? But it's so fancy! What recipe did you use anyway??" The reply came in quickly. Good, maybe it was fixable while it was still warm. Poppy sent the link to the recipe he'd found.

"Um. Where's the seasoning?" Andrew asked.

"What do you mean? It has paprika and garlic..."

"Is the cafe open today?"

"No, I close early on weekends. Why?"

"Can I drop off a present? 🙏"

"A present? Well, sure, I can come meet you, if you'd like."

The last thing Andrew sent was to say that he'd be there in roughly half an hour. Around that time, Poppy headed out to the front of the cafe to wait at one of the tables. He had to admit, it was a little nerve-wracking, waiting for a man to bring him... something. Though it was a temperate day, if only a little cloudy, he kept pulling his cardigan around himself as he repeatedly checked his phone.

Luckily, Andrew made good time. He waved and broke into a jog as he made his way down the street, carrying what looked to be a shopping bag. He plopped down across from Poppy, a grin already spread wide across his face.

"Hey! Okay, check it out." From the bag, he pulled a small jar of red powder. He cracked it open and worked a small bit onto his finger for him to taste. With an eager expression, he held the jar out to Poppy to do the same.

The boy took it gingerly. He gave the substance a wary sniff and abruptly recoiled. Andrew broke into a hearty laugh as the boy pinched his burnt nose.

"H- Holy crap!" he croaked. "What is this?"

"It's my mom's spice mix. This'll give you some good shakshuka. Er, If you can get used to a little heat first. That's not even that spicy..." He chuckled again, to which Poppy stuck his tongue out at him.

He gave the mix another tentative sniff, from a bit further away this time. Beneath the heat, Poppy could make out the smokey, savory aroma, with more than a little sweetness to balance it. There was even a hint of... was that some kind of citrus?

"Wow... Can this save my dish then?"

"Well, it's best used during the cooking process. The spices need to get in there, blend with it all."

Poppy slumped his shoulders. "Great. I'll have to choke down the rest of it before I can try again..."

Andrew snorted. "Well you should have said so, I would have happily taken the rest off your hands! My family sure can cook but, eh, food's food!"

Poppy stopped to look over the man's face. Between his big, brown eyes, and the way his shoulders sat without an ounce of tension. It was just long enough that Andrew raised a brow and tilted his head.

"What?"

"Do you want to just... come up to my apartment, so I can give it to you?"

Andrew's eyes widened before he practically jumped out of the chair. "Seriously? Yeah, I'd love that!"

Poppy snickered. He lead the way through the gated alley to the back entrance to his apartment, which earned a small, "Ooh, spooky," from Andrew. He followed Poppy at a polite distance and a relaxed pace. Or, maybe a bit of a dawdle for him. His steps were notably wider than Poppy's, which made the boy feel a tad silly as he jogged up the stairs, while Andrew simply walked. The man caught the unimpressed glance Poppy shot over his shoulder, and in response, started skipping steps while maintaining the same pace, chuckling.

In Poppy's little apartment, he gave the customary, "Make yourself at home," while he went to the kitchen. Andrew set his shoes neatly aside and followed slowly, giving the place a curious look-over.

It was quaint. Poppy's furniture wasn't anything terribly out of the ordinary, but between the kitchen and the living room, he had a healthy number of chachkas. Porcelain frogs, plants in pots that looked like other objects or butts, and what appeared to be a matryoshka doll, but ducks wearing clothes. Just as Andrew was starting to admit to himself that the boy decorated his apartment like an old lady, a large print to the right of the fridge caught his eye. It had a simple frame, not daring to detract from the almost psychedelic colours that swirled around the side of a curvy torso possessing both breasts and a phallus. It stood out from the rest of his decor, yet somehow flowed smoothly from it. Andrew stood before it a moment, nodding slowly to himself before finally coming into the kitchen.

Poppy didn't notice any of this. The shakshuka was still in his large, lidded saucepan on the stove. He'd fished out a tupperware and had begun to fill it when he suddenly stopped.He turned around to find Andrew taking a relaxed seat at his little kitchen table.

"Maybe... Would you want to try it first? It's seriously pretty bad. I could just crush a tomato in my bare hands and get the same thing."

"Oh come on, it can't be that bad."

Poppy looked skeptical. He grabbed a bowl and nuked a portion in the microwave. As he served, he sat across from Andrew, his hands clasped patiently on the table.

The man was so sweet. He took a big bite, making sure to get a little bit of everything on the spoon. He chewed thoroughly, thoughtfully, but his eyebrows slowly turned up in sympathy.

"It's... pretty bland," he confessed with an awkward laugh. "I swear I saw you buy more veg than this... Where did it go...?"

Poppy dramatically hung his head, sighing loudly. "The other stuff was for daily use..."

"Oh... I thought you were improvising when I looked at the recipe."

"I told you I'm a bad cook. I only really started trying to learn after moving out."

Andrew shook his head, clearing the topic with a fresh, albeit somewhat mischievous, smile. "Alright, how 'bout this. I'll still take this off your hands, and, maybe next weekend or something, I teach you personally how to make a good shakshuka breakfast. How's that sound?"