A/N Disclaier- I have no fucking clue what realy cullinary school is like, so I'm just bullshitting a lot of this.

"You're studying again?" Joe asked when he spotted Michael at the dining room table, his laptop open in front of him. "No no no. Come kill zombies with us".

"Why do you sound so disappointed in me?" Michael asked, raising his gaze from the screen of his laptop. "I'm doing what people our age are supposed to do".

"No," Joe protested, looking completely horrified by the idea. "People are age are supposed to drink and smoke and have sex and go to parties and play video games".

"I do all of those things," Michael pointed out. "Some of them I do more than you do".

"Very funny Michael," Joe responded, eyes narrowed. "You're really not going to play video games with us?"

"I really can't. I have a presentation tomorrow and it'll be super embarrassing if I get up there and don't know what I'm doing. Besides, I spent all day with you guys". It was the first time in awhile that Michael had dedicated his entire morning and afternoon to spending time with his brothers, and while he enjoyed it, and felt a little more like himself again, he really needed to be prepared to teach in the morning.

"Uhh, fine," Joe groaned, leaving the doorway to move into the dining room. "Where's Ian though? I want some kind of snack when we play".

"You just ate dinner," Michael pointed out, watching as Joe pressed the button on the wall that alerted the back room that the chef was needed. Each of their houses staff had a different sound they were supposed to report to. Michael rarely pressed the buttons himself, but they were often utilized by his parents and Joe. "Also, you ate all of the mousse he made".

"That's because it was delicious," Joe defended, bracing his hands on the counter and leaning forward enough that his feet left the ground. "Where the hell is he?"

"Give him a minute". Michael looked down at the screen of his laptop again, watching the cursor blink at the end of the word document. He was working on his lesson plan for his Education exam, reviewing what he had already planned and adding and removing small bits and pieces. It would be fine, he was sure– teaching was his passion– but he also risked being removed from the student teaching program in the upcoming fall semester if he failed.

At the counter, Joe whined pathetically before beginning to stab his finger into the button repeatedly in his impatience. "I really want-"

"Stop that," Michael scolded. "You're being rude".

"What's rude is being paid to serve people and then not being there to serve them," Joe shot back and Michael rolled his eyes. In response, Joe finally stopped pressing the button, but only to turn and point an accusing finger in his direction. "Stop thinking mean things about me!"

"Well, you're kind of being a douche," Michael pointed out, though he wasn't surprised by the behavior. He had long since grown used to the entitlement of his brothers, especially Joe. With a frustrated little huff, Joe opened his mouth to give him a piece of his mind.

"Such harsh words," Ian interrupted from the doorway connecting the hall to the kitchen. They both looked at him, and he smiled warmly. "Sorry I wasn't here. Your father asked me to bring his dinner up to him at seven so I was upstairs doing that".

"Oh, I-" Joe began, cutting off when he caught sight of Michael's I told you so expression. "Michael, I swear to god-"

"No need for that," Ian said calmly, moving into the kitchen. "What would you like to eat, Joe? If you want something that I don't already have made you're going to have to wait a little bit because I still need to eat dinner". Joe's nose wrinkled slightly, and he looked about ready to say something unpleasant, so Michael cut in quickly before he could be embarrassed by his brother.

"Just give him anything," he instructed, leaning back in his chair to see Ian around Joe's frame. Brown eyes shifted to look at him, expression relaxing into something less tense. Clearly, Ian was already familiar enough with Joe to know he was sometimes a huge dick. "He has a sweet tooth, if you haven't noticed. Otherwise he likes salty things".

Joe appeared to be less than pleased with Michael speaking for him, but he didn't disagree with what he was saying. "Okay," Ian acknowledged, looking back at the middle triplet with slightly narrowed eyes. "Well, I have leftover scones from yesterday morning which I could heat up for you, which would be something sweet. I don't really have something savory at the moment except for what you just ate for dinner".

"A scone is fine," Joe agreed after a pause, and Michael sighed softly in relief, looking away from them now that he was no longer concerned about his brother's behavior. Still, he grit his teeth as Joe left without saying thank you, mumbling an invite to Michael about joining them if he wanted to take a break.

The second Joe was out of the room Micahel said, "sorry," to Ian without looking up from his lap top.

It was silent for a moment, and then the sound of Ian's pretty chuckle reached his ears. "Don't worry about that. That was actually probably one of our best interactions so far".

Michael would question how many interactions they had been able to have over the course of two days, but he knew that Joe ate a lot of food, and the answer would probably concern him. "I'm apologizing for him as a person, not that single interaction," Michael clairfied, pressing the space key of his computer a handful of times so he felt like he was accomplishing something.

He had been reviewing it since they had finished dinner an hour and a half ago, and hadn't been able to completely focus on the work for the past thirty minutes, his mind wandering to thoughts of Pierce and Daisy and Josh.

"Ahh," Ian voiced, sounding much closer than he had a minute before. Michael lifted his gaze to watch him approach, a plate with a sandwich on it balanced on the palm of one hand and a glass of water in the other. "Well, I don't really mind being talked down to". He stopped at the end of the table and frowned down at the chair across from Michael. "Oh. Can I eat here or will I be a distraction?" There was a pause in which Michael thought, you're cute as shit, of course you are going to be a distraction, but Ian seemed to take that as rejection because he took a quick step backwards away from the chair. "It's alright. I can just sit at the counter actually-"

"No," Michael protested, shutting the top of his laptop. "Take a seat. I think I need a break anyways. I'm going kind of crazy".

The invitation made Ian smile, and he placed his plate and glass down on the table across from Michael before taking a seat. "I remember those nights, though I suppose my studying was a little different than yours is".

Humming thoughtfully, Michael propped his head up on his hand. "What were your finals like in culinary school?"

"A lot of cooking," Ian respond, taking a sip of water before directing his attention to his food. "But that was honestly most of the semester. For the first year we had to take tests about nutrients and stuff, but after that our finals just had to do with making stuff".

"Were they stressful?" Michael asked, curious. If finals week was just like any other week of class he was sure he wouldn't have been so panicky.

"Unbelievably," Ian answered with a nod of his head before taking the first bite of his sandwich. He waited until he had swallowed to continue speaking. "It wasn't exactly like every other day of class. Like, for class it was a lot of how to cook things perfectly and experimentation. For finals week we had to prepare certain meals that were assigned to us but not in the way we had been taught. There had to be something new about it that added to the taste and made it our own. It was incredibly stressful because sometimes you don't know what your professors liked, so if you really liked things to be spicy and added something to your meal to do that, but they didn't like spicy food, your grade would be ruined".

"That is stressful," Michael agreed, dropping his gaze to his closed laptop. "Sounds like something I would be awful at". Ian chuckled as he took another bite, his eyes crinkling when Michael glanced up to meet his gaze. They had italian for dinner that night, and there had been plenty of left overs. Michael wondered why Ian wasn't eating some.

"Well, it certainly isn't for everyone," Ian said softly, taking another sip of water. "I don't think I would have been any good at regular college. I can't just sit down and study, but I was good at spending hours in the kitchen trying new things".

Michael nodded in acknowledgement and asked, "wasn't there pasta leftover? Why are you eating a sandwich".

"Your father requested that he take the left overs for lunch tomorrow," Ian explained with a shrug of his shoulders. "I really don't mind. It's not often that I eat something as simple as a sandwich. Feels like I'm going back to the basics". He continued to eat, and Michael crossed his arms over the table top and dropped his head against them, closing his eyes. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he responded softly, dismissing the other man's concern. "Just tired. I couldn't sleep last night because I spent the majority of the day napping, then then today Joe wanted us to spend time together so Dan and I took turns playing him in pool and it's just...  tiring".

"And now you have to study?"

"Yeah," Michael agreed, lifting his head. "Well, kinda. It's not really studying".

"Oh". Ian looked down at Michael's laptop. "What are you working on then?"

"I have to prepare a lesson plan for my Education class regarding my teaching field," Micahel explained, narrowing his eyes at his laptop. "It's mostly done. I just need to go over and review it but I can't focus so it's talking me a lot longer than it probably should".

"Education?" Ian seemed intrigued. "What are you planning on teaching?"

It took Michael a moment to respond, wondering how he should respond to that. It wasn't that he didn't want to tell Ian about his aspirations, but Ian was technically working for his father, so Michael should probably lie and tell him what he told his father.

The education classes are just for fun. I'm just a Business major. After I graduate, I'll never spend another day in a classroom.

But it was Ian, and Ian already knew more about him than most people, and Michael didn't want to lie to him after already revealing his largest secret. "Um, I want to teach French, actually".

Apparently too excited to function properly, Ian choked on his water and spent a full minute coughing before he was able to manage a choked up, "tu parles français?" (you speak french?) With a small laugh at the reaction, Michael nodded his head in conformation.

"Oui". (I do) He nodded his head along with the words. "I said I wanted to go to France, remember?" He was referring to the encounter between them that they had agreed to forget, but Ian didn't seem to notice or care.

"I do remember that," he claimed, brown eyes very bright. "That's awesome! I didn't know that you actually spoke the language. I just figured it was somewhere you wanted to go because it's France and everyone should want to go to France. It's amazing". For a moment he fell silent, a content look on his face, lips curling up into a smile. "So how did you end up learning french? Do your brothers speak it as well?"

"No. It's just me". The idea of Joe being willing to learn another language almost made him laugh.

"Ahh. Have you been to France?"

"I have, actually," Michael confirmed. "We went a couple of years ago when our dad was negotiating with some companies overseas. It was actually on that trip that I decided I wanted to make French more than just a hobby". The look of interest on Ian's face made him pause. No one had ever cared to actually listen to him talk about this before. Even James hadn't been interested to know how Michael had come to love the french language, and he was his closest friend. "Ever since I learned that there were different languages, I wanted to learn one. I was actually so persistent that once I got into elementary school my mom found me a tutor to teach me french... it's actually why I agreed to tutor the kids down the street when Ms. Myer reached out to me".

"You tutor?" Ian asked, voice small.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry. That's kind of off topic. Anyways, I had been speaking French for multiple years by the time I actually got to go there, and I had enjoyed it up until that point, sure, but as soon as I was surrounded by it I realized how much I loved it. I mean, maybe I enjoyed the fact that no one could understand what Joe was saying when he was being a douche, but I'm pretty sure it's more than that. I spent the entire trip speaking for my family members and I improved more in that week than I had in my entire life time so far. It was..." he didn't know how to explain it, "an experience".

Ian just looked at him, his eyes a little wider than usual and lips parted just enough that Michael could see a sliver of his white teeth.

"Ian?"

"Ah!" he vocalized, snapping out of whatever trance he had been in. "Sorry. I didn't meant to zone out. It's just... I was thinking..." Brown eyes dropped to look at his sandwich, widening slightly as if he was surprised he hadn't eaten it all already. "It's really nice to hear someone talk about something they're so passionate about".

"Oh".

"Yeah!" Ian's voice came out loud and he immediately grimaced and lowered the volume. "It's crazy how much you can learn by immersing yourself in the culture though. When I moved there for school, I had seven years of experience in Spanish, but I learned quickly. My schooling kind of depended on it".

"I can't even imagine," Michael supplied, trying not to alarm the man by sounding too pleased. He was just happy that Ian was talking to him about himself after he had been so closed off when they first met.

That never happened.

"It was honestly terrifying, but once I got over that hurdle I loved living in Pairs".

"What was it like? Living in Pairs. We were only there for a few days in our trip so a lot of things went unseen. Living there... taking the time to explore..." Michael trailed off as he thought about it. It sounded like it would be-

"Amazing," Ian confirmed on an exhale. "Going to school there was the greatest decision I've ever made". 

"What were your days like?" Michael asked, raising one of his arms from the table to prop his head up with it. He understood now why Ian had been staring at him. It was encaptivating to watch someone talk about something they very clearly loved. "Tell me your routine".

The way Ian lit up at that made his breath hitch in his throat and his palms to sweat, made his eyes widen and his heart to slam against his chest. Holy fuck, Michael thought, I am the luckiest man alive. How is he so beautiful?

"Well, classes went from noon to four every day, so I would wake up in the morning around six thirty and eat breakfast out on the little terrace the apartment had, and then..."

Michael let him talk, watching him with a small smile on his face. There was just something about Ian that captured his attention, something that grew the more he got to know him. At first, in the grocery store, he had been in awed strictly by Ian's appearance, but now he could see that the man to be so much more than just his beauty. He was clever,  funny, passionate and he cared about what Michael had to say and was actually interested in the things he said them about.

Ian was amazing. Yes, Michael was still scared about what could potentially happen if he was caught looking a little too long in front of his brothers, but ultimately, he was happy that Ian had been the one hired to cook for them. With him around, Michael had hope that he didn't constantly have to feel so lost.

Right around the time that Ian was summarizing his trip to Prague during his sophomore year he became aware of Michael's unwavering gaze on him and fell silent, his cheeks flushing a soft shade of pink in his embarrassment. "What?" he asked, bruising his fingers over his mouth self consciously. "Is there something on-"

"No," Michael interrupted, somewhat sad because how could he not know. "I just really like listening to you talk is all". Ian just slowly blinked at him, his cheeks still flushed. "So, why'd you leave then?"

"What?"

"Europe," Michael clarified. "Pairs. You sound so fond when you speak of it. Why did you come back here if you loved it so much?"

"Oh". His expression shifted then, his lips pulling down in a way that told Michael he had wandered into unwanted territory. Before he could apologize and maybe change the subject to something a little less sensitive, Ian was standing from his seat, taking the plate with his half eaten sandwich with him. He didn't answer for a full minute, not until he was in the kitchen washing his plate, his face turned down towards the sink. "I guess there just wasn't anything there for me anymore".

"Oh," Michael said, softly enough that he was the only one to hear. What had happened in Paris? He wondered. What was bad enough to make Ian leave?

In the kitchen, Ian had finished washing his dish and was gathering his things, preparing to leave.

What can I say to get him to stay now?

But it wasn't up to him if Ian stayed or not. He was probably tired and ready to go home, and Michael wasn't going to keep him from doing that, even if he desperately wanted him to sit down across from him again and tell him his life story, including all of the parts that he was afraid to face himself.

"Heading out?" He inquired softly at the sound of Ian's car keys.

"Yeah," Ian answered, coming back to the table to push in his chair. "Good luck with your school work. Thanks for taking with me while I ate. All my other meals had been spent alone, so it was really nice".

Any time, he wanted to say. I'd love to do it again.

Instead, he said nothing, his eyes following Ian out of the room.