noteasytobepink | The DINNER ~ Wheelsy AU

The DINNER ~ Wheelsy AU

She'd been working two days, a day to get a handle on the simple art of flower arranging (complicated stuff would come later) and to start learning delivery routes. It had been nice to be moving again, doing something, anything, constructive and today...

...today she actually teleported back to Bill's house with an armload of groceries and flailed. "I'M RUNNING LATE! DID THE ROAST IN THE CROCKPOT TURN OUT...wait. YOU"RE NOT HOME ARE YOU?!"

It probably wasn't time for him to be home. Meep. Talking to an empty house and running late on starting the meal still! Right! Dough! Dough first, for bread and a sweet dough for tarts. Those needed to rise, then she could start peeling potatoes...

Right. She could do this. She flipped on the radio, tossed her floral shop hat on the counter and stared COOKING. Dancing and cooking but hey who didn't need music to cook well? "Knife!" she called out, years of habit having the warning go out amidst the music so no one got hit by the knife headed toward the sink.

She tended to throw things when she was cooking. Yep.

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"Yeah, but if you panic it makes me nervous," He pointed out, and illustrated by dropping one of the potatoes into the bottom of the sink. Fishing it out, he gave it a rinse and added it to the pot, then covered the potatoes with water.

Heading over to set the pot on the stove, he helped himself to a sample of the fruit goo by stealing a finger swipe.

"Why are you panicking? She's your mom so obviously you know all the ways around her!" she laughed and watched him steal a finger-full. Too easy?

Maybe.

The damn mix was incredibly tart at the moment. Early season berries and not much sugar at all...

"No, bein' my mom means she knows all the ways around me. It's a superpower they have."

His smile turned into a squinched, sour expression at the tartness of the mixture.

"Oh, ugh... wow. Needs sugar."

"Ooo, telepathic link with children they bear? Why does no one ever tell me these things?!" she laughed and leaned forward to kiss him properly. The better to wash the tartness out of his mouth!

"I'm adding honey soon lover. You got to the bowl early."

"Probably more like sharp instincts than mind readin'," he said, smiling after the kiss. "But close enough to be the one."

That was just how mom's were.

Giving the fruit a disapproving look, he stepped away.

"I'll wait til you're finished, then."

"I'd still bet on Mr. Creed's instincts over a mom's." It was just something she was inclined to do. The man had reality defying instincts after all.

"Hey! Don't frown at my ingredients! You'll sour them more with looks like that!" She turned to half hide the bowl from his gaze, giggling. "What did you expect poking at things before they're done?!"

"Hey, my mom can be scary when she wants to be. Though, I am hopin' tonight ain't one of those times."

He wandered back to the pot on the stove, poking at the potatoes a bit before leaning against the counter.

"Some things are best before they're done. Like cookie dough. An' brownie batter."

"If she's too scary I might scream," she warned cheerful. "Nerves you know." And she knew attacking wasn't a valid option so!

"Shift!" She bumped him a little further along the counter to get a measuring spoon out of the drawer behind him then bumped him back so she could reach the honey out of the cabinet he'd ended up in front of. "And you realize both those have raw egg in them when you steal halfway through right? Not that there's anything with raw egg but most people seem to think it's nasty."

"Please don't scream at my mom," he replied. "Y'all start shrieking I'm findin' a hotel room for the night."

He shifted and resettled, then gave a huff when he had to move again. Eying her to make sure he wasn't going to have to move again, he leaned back against the counter.

"My mom used t'say you'd get sick, but I ain't ever. I like it." And that's all that mattered.

"Nah, raw eggs won't make you sick unless you eat too many of them. The protein is good for you and needs must if you don't have the time to cook the eggs you find before you have to run." If there was one thing she wasn't it was squeamish. She preferred well made food when there was the option though!

"And I'll try not to! I just...if she growls or something it's the best option? I don't have a lot of safe reactions to scary!"

Edited 2013-01-05 05:06 (UTC)

"See, I knew it, 'cause Rocky was drinkin' 'em." Bill snapped his fingers like he'd just uncovered a big truth about something. "Cookie dough is perfectly healthy for me."

Satisfied, he gave a nod and went back to poking the potatoes.

"She won't growl, she'll probably just ask a lot of hard an' embarrasin' questions, an' keep her eyes on you while waitin' for answers."

"Well, not exactly healthy in large doses," she admitted. "Don't take that as permission to gorge!" She was so not making a batch of cookies soon. Just in case.

"Oh, is that all? Pfft, that's easy."

"I wasn't gonna." He laughed, proof that he probably was going to.

"It is easy, nothin' to worry on," he said, hoping to convince himself that was the case.

"Liar," she accused fondly. "I could see you readjusting your dietary plans to add cookie dough in there!" Really! It was in the gleeful amusement in his eyes!

"I'll still worry a little. Moms are alien, weird creatures after all."

"Add it, not live off of it." He shot her a grin.

Testing the potatoes again, he found them soft and turned off the burner so he could take them to the sink and strain them.

"An' my mom ain't none of those things." He threw her a Look that was mostly playful, then dumped the boiled potatoes into a colander.

She goosed him as a matter of course before taking over the counter (since he wasn't leaning on it anymore!). "You're right. I'm the alien oddball here but hey, I can pretend right?"

He jumped a little at the goose, and playfully swatted her hand away.

"I ain't sayin' that, either. Tonight's gonna be good, alright? With no aliens or gorgin' on cookie dough."

"Well, good, because I'm making tarts, not cookies. Mysterious cookie dough would be an obvious trap!" Someone out to snare the sheriff...

...wait.

"I could totally build a basket trap and bait it with cookie dough..."

Bill's eyes slid to her and he stopped mashing a moment.

"You tryin' to trap me? I ain't that dumb."

Of course, if he didn't see a trap and happened across something sweet and delicious, who knows, really.

"It'd be a purely consensual trap," she snorted. "One where you are tempted into a comfortable environment, soft beds, a hungry pink girl checking the trap..."

"Yeah, an' whens the part when you trap me in a basket?"

He goes to the fridge for butter and milk, pausing to look at her from behind the open door.

"An' that hungry bit isn't quite so comfortin' knowin' you like chasin' down bunny rabbits an' things. I'm just as cute, so I feel like maybe I've got reason to worry."

"Mmm, big basket. Cozy even." She shot him a cheerful leer and drizzled honey into her bowl. "And no, hungry in an entirely different manner for you...though I may bite." She snapped her teeth teasingly and went back to mixing her goop.

He grinned at her leer, then disappeared into the fridge to root around for butter.

"I hope it's a well made basket. Wicker an' the like tend t'give splinters."

"I'll be sure to take that into consideration," she noted with a cheerful nod. "Really it was just the idea of baiting you with cookie dough that amused me. I may find other ways to incorporate your love of the uncooked stuff."

He chuckled and closed the fridge, heading back to the stove top to finish the potatoes.

"Hm, well at least now I know to be careful about any cookie dough I might find lyin' around. Tipped your hand, there."

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