"I'm having enough trouble dealing with your family when I mostly understand the society I'm in, though, let me get a bit more used to them before we hop back."

Wait did Edmund actually fuck his brother in orgy world or was he also just pining? No bad James don't make assumptions.

Squiiiiiiint.

"—we do not have time for you to answer the question I want to ask before cookies."

"Alright. I'll ask after."

Knock knock knock. "Mum says to come get biscuits if you're decent and to carry on if not. I think if you're being indecent you should stop it and splash some water on your faces and come down for biscuits anyway once you're decent again, but I'm not opening the door. Cheers."

"We're decent!" James calls through the door though he does immediately mutter to Edmund only "But only because ten minutes is not long enough."

"Excellent! Biscuits await."

Clatter of adolescent girl rapidly descending stairs.

Kiss on the cheek!

Thigh squeeze, then he's up again and the handbook is back in his bag. ...which can probably stay in Edmund's bedroom while they go downstairs?

Actually where does one keep one's phone when one is naked and is not carrying their bag.

It has an attached wrist strap! (Also, he's noticed a lot of people at school have belts with pouches.)

Downstairs, there are biscuits! Shortbread is the theme, but there are some with jam and some with chocolate and some with icing and, in general, a lot of variety.

The girl who called them down greets James at the foot of the stairs with a cursory once-over. "Lucy Pevensie," she says with a small bow. "Edmund's little sister. He likes you rather a lot."

"All six of you. Mind readers, to the last. It's nice to meet you, Lucy, I'm James."

"I can't really be blamed for noticing that he likes you! But yes, nice to meet you, don't fuck it up with my brother." Lucy appropriates a lemon iced biscuit.

"Language!" says her mother reprovingly. "Also, don't be rude."

"M'not being rude. Just, you know, setting expectations."

"I will do my best to take good care of him and make sure his heart stays in one piece for as long as we are together."

He's probably not gonna be able to taste every variant so he'll pick a biscuit at random instead.

"Acceptable," Lucy proclaims through crumbs.

He receives: a chocolate-dipped biscuit! It's extremely good. The chocolate appears to not be American-sourced, which means it is almost certainly significantly better than the average chocolate James has encountered in his life.

"Oh these are delicious," he says, not with his mouth full because he is still trying to impress his boyfriend's family. "If the recipes are shareable I might beg you for them, my dad would love it."

Helen smiles broadly. "I can share the recipe, but it's three ingredients plus add-ons; the secret is caster sugar and Irish butter. American butter is a tragedy."

"I'm sure the distinction will be one he pays attention to, he's tried to get me into cooking and the best he could do was make it more likely that small me would one day become a pyromaniac."

Henry wanders into the dining room and takes a jammy dodger. "Pyromania is perfectly respectable. Too many people take fire for granted, in my opinion. We need some enthusiasm."

Peter makes a thoughtful noise, ignoring his father. "Mum, would these work with cake flour, do you think?"

Helen nods. "You couldn't dip them in chocolate, though, and I wanted that - they come out lovely that way but they're all over crumbs."

"I didn't know there were different types of flour," James stage whispers to Edmund.

"Good lord. - I don't actually know if that's actually common knowledge, between Mum and Peter I've picked up rather a lot of baking arcana."

"In case we ever end up in the cookie apocalypse timeline you will be ready," James says solemnly, grabbing another biscuit at random.

Jammy dodger! It is, again, lovely.

"I have absolutely no idea what that would even entail. But I will indeed be ready."

"Grandmas making eldritch pacts with beings from outside the void, as I understand it."

"...huh. Well, we can do our best to avoid it."

Soon the biscuit supply is exhausted. "Thanks, Mum. James, d'you want to go do homework in my room?"

"Sure," okay next reality needs to deal with that actually homework sucks. "Thank you for these, they were great," he adds, to Edmund's mother.