empire-of-socks - Tumblr blog

empire-of-socks · 1 year

Note

sorry this sent me and I had to write it

slightly different premise but very much klavier being ridiculous abt his smart home

Apollo was only trying to make a nice breakfast for his boyfriend.

It was Saturday, the greatly awaited end of a very long week. Apollo and Klavier had each been through the ringer with their own separate trials, and had barely seen each other at all over the past few days. Klavier’s trial in particular was nasty; not only was it complicated, but it involved a poisoning. Those cases always affected Klavier’s moods, though he was loathe to admit it. The case had taken its toll on him, though, and despite the late hour, Klavier was uncharacteristically still asleep.

Apollo, on the other hand, was awake. Of the two of them he was not the morning person; he was groggy, body still rebooting after a good night’s sleep. As he stumbled down the hallway of Klavier’s penthouse apartment, it occurred to him that it might be nice to make Klavier breakfast, as a little surprise for when he eventually woke up. This was something that Klavier did for him on occasion, and it never failed to make him smile.

Klavier was thoughtful like that. It was one of the things Apollo liked most about him, and something he wished he himself was better at. It wasn’t that Apollo was inconsiderate— far from it, but he didn’t have that sixth sense for exactly what a person needed like Klavier did. He was nearly infallible, and Apollo wanted to show him that he appreciated all those little things. Perhaps doing something similar in return was a good start.

So, Apollo made his way into the kitchen, rubbing the remaining sleep from his eyes. He surveyed the shimmering granite and shiny stainless steel appliances that lined the room, planning his route.

First was coffee. That was easy— Apollo had made coffee in Klavier’s kitchen plenty of times. He’d gotten a new coffee machine recently, and the two of them had figured it out together. It had taken them a while to get the hang of it, but now Apollo could load up the coffee beans (which, naturally, were locally sourced, small-batch, and light-roasted only days before) and have a hot drink made in a matter of minutes.

As he filled the water reservoir of the coffee machine, Apollo mulled over his other options. He was a decent cook, but generally stuck to simple recipes. He decided that eggs and toast was the way forward. There was half a loaf of Klavier’s favorite rosemary olive oil bread tucked away in his bread box (which, Apollo still found ridiculous. A whole box, just for bread? What was wrong with a good old fashioned plastic sleeve?).

Once the coffee was brewing, Apollo crossed over to the refrigerator, pulling out a carton of eggs a some milk. He cracked four of them into a bowl, added a splash of milk, then whisked them together carefully with a fork. Setting the bowl down next to the stove, he retrieved one of Klavier’s frying pans from where it hung on a rack above one of the counters and set it on the burner. As it heated, he grabbed the loaf of bread out of the box and cut two thick slices. He set them aside, planning to pop them in the toaster once the eggs were nearly done so they’d be fresh and hot.

Everything was going along swimmingly. The scrambled eggs came out fluffy and light and slid easily around Klavier’s non-stick pan. Just as he was pulling the eggs off the burner, Apollo realized he’d forgotten to put the toast in.

Cursing quietly under his breath, he found a lid for the pan and placed it on top of the eggs, hoping to keep them warm. Then, he retrieved the two slices of bread from the opposite counter and went to the toaster.

Or… to what he thought was the toaster. It was honestly a little hard to tell— the thing was large, made of stainless steel with a clear glass window in the front. It had slots on top that looked like a toaster’s, but there were no switches or buttons immediately visible. The whole thing was sleek and smooth, and Apollo had absolutely no idea how to turn it on.

Carefully, he pulled the device further out from where it was tucked against the wall so he could get a better look at it. He ran his hands carefully along the edge and the back, searching for any sort of mechanism that might turn it on. He found nothing but smooth, cool metal.

Apollo bit back a groan. He should have known that any device he hadn’t used before in this kitchen would be nearly unworkable. Klavier, for whatever reason, seemed to have the most complicated devices for the simplest of things. Like the egg container that Apollo had just retrieved the eggs from, which was wifi-enabled and had a special sensor in each groove that kept tabs on the freshness of the egg it held. Apparently, putting eggs underwater to see if they’ve gone rotten was beneath him.

Taking a step back, Apollo eyed the mysterious toaster. Logically, the toaster had to have some way of being turned on and off. If it wasn’t a switch, it must be something else. Maybe it had sensors that could tell when you placed bread in the slots?

Apollo gingerly placed the two slices into the slots of the toaster, letting them fall a few inches into the device. Nothing happened.

He reached out and pressed each down with a tad more force. Still nothing.

Apollo let out a small sigh, bending over to rest his forehead in his hands as he propped his elbows up on the counter. “How the fuck does this stupid thing turn on?” he grumbled.

Apollo nearly jumped out of his skin when the toaster suddenly lit up in neon purple right in front of him. He stumbled back, the edge of the opposite counter slamming against the small of his back. A lit-up pixelated smiley face appeared in the glass window on the side of the toaster. Apollo felt distinctly like it was mocking him.

“Good morning! To what tune would you like your toast today?” asked the toaster in a robot imitation of a woman’s voice.

“Uh…” Apollo said, startled.

“I do not recognize that tune,” said the toaster. “Please select another title.”

“Another title… what the hell?” Apollo muttered, brain still struggling to catch up with the apparently voice-activated device. Unfortunately for him, even his low muttering tone was caught by the toaster’s microphone.

“Okay!” said the toaster. “What the Hell” by Avril Lavigne, selected. Toasting will now commence.”

Before Apollo even knew what was happening, the smart speakers in Klavier’s kitchen had come to life. Apparently connected to the toaster, they began blaring a familiar synth-y pop rock tune.

As Apollo watched the slices of bread finally, finally descend into the toaster, he felt his mind break just a little bit. He was only trying to make breakfast for his boyfriend, and now he was in a losing battle with a singing toaster. There was nothing he could do but stand there and wait it out.

Approximately three minutes and fourty-five seconds later, Klavier walked into the kitchen, still in his bed clothes, to find his shell-shocked boyfriend frozen against the kitchen counter, staring slack-jawed at the toaster. Twin clouds of smoke billowed from its top, curling up towards the ceiling as Avril’s crooning slowly faded out.

There was silence for a moment.

Then: “Klavier.”

“…ja?”

“Why. The fuck. Does your toaster. SING.”

Klavier opened his mouth to reply, but was spared from answering by the shrill shriek of his fire alarms going off. As he dashed around the kitchen, shoving open windows and turning on the fan, Apollo stayed right where he was, his arms staying crossed stiffly over his chest. Meanwhile, Klavier grabbed a sheet pan from a nearby drawer and started manually dispersing the acrid air.

When the smoke had thinned enough for the fire alarms to cease, Klavier turned back towards his boyfriend. He raised a single eyebrow.

“Thanks for the help, liebling,” he said, only a little sarcastic. “What did the poor toast do to you?”

“You haven’t answered my question,” Apollo replied.

“Was?” It took Klavier a moment to recall what Apollo was referring to. “Oh! The singing. Ja, it’s just a little feature. For fun.”

“But why.” Apollo said, through gritted teeth, “is it necessary for toast?”

Klavier shrugged, nonplussed. “Why not? It is not so complicated, liebling. The toaster simply toasts for the length of the song you give it! I’m not sure why you picked one that long, though I do love a little Avril in the morning.”

“I didn’t—“ Apollo huffed out a frustrated breath. “For fuck’s sake, Klav, what song am I supposed to pick that’s short enough?”

“Twinkle Twinkle Little Star?” Klavier suggested. “Or the ABC’s?”

Apollo levels him with a glare. “You cannot tell me you make your toaster sing you children’s songs every morning so you can make toast.”

“Nein, sometimes I have it use pre-cut samples of Gavinners songs.”

Apollo let out a groan. “Of course you do.”

“Any other questions?” Klavier asked, giving him a good natured grin. “I really don’t know why this surprises you. I’d think you knew me better by now.”

“Clearly not,” Apollo muttered. “Every time I think I’ve found the most ridiculous thing about you, another one pops up.”

“It’s part of my charm, ja?”

“Not even a little bit,” Apollo said. “But I do have one more question. Why’d you pick the toaster of all things?”

“Oh, I didn’t!” Klavier said brightly. “All the appliances in here work the same way!”

“All of them???”

“Well, all except the coffee machine, I haven’t programmed that one yet.”

“Klavier,” Apollo said, “What the fuck.”

just had the scenario idea of “apollo housesitting for klavier and getting annoyed by his overengineered smart home technology” so do with that what you will, if you’d like