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witticasterI'm not in the mood for finishing this tonight, or fixing it so there's any explanation as to why Granby can cook or whatever. Maybe I'll feel like writing happy things tomorrow.
"Lord," said John as he walked into the kitchen. His gaze swept across their small counter, crowded with bowls, pots, and various foodstuffs. "What're you doing, Will? Preparing a three-course meal?"
Will--who had been in the middle of squinting at a recipe he'd photocopied from a library book earlier that day and trying to decide what exactly it meant to 'fold in two eggs' before Granby showed up--replied with a defensive, "No." Then, after a pause, "It's only dinner and pudding. I thought soup would be pushing it."
"What for?" John was now examining the contents of an especially large bowl. "We can just have take-away tonight, you needn't risk burning the building down."
Will felt his cheeks grow slightly warmer. "Actually, it's for Tharkay and me. He's got work on Valentine's Day, and I'm going to have to study--"
"So you're celebrating early," John finished, sounding like he was doing his best to suppress a laugh. (It would, of course, have been good-natured, but Will, whose cooking skills were pressed to their limits when attempting to fry an egg, appreciated his restraint.) "I'll clear out for the night, then, if you'll camp out in the library on Valentine's Day proper. What're you making?"
"Glazed salmon with rice and vegetables, and chocolate cake with whipped cream." Will glanced over at his flatmate. "Have you got a date for Valentine's Day?"
It was Granby's turn to look slightly pink (or pinker, in his case--his face was an almost perpetual sunburn, it seemed). "I'll know tomorrow," was his evasion, and he quickly turned the subject back to the present. "Do you want any help?"
Will looked at the bowl of flour and cocoa he was trying to fold eggs into, the thin dusting of cocoa powder that coated half the counter, and the as-of-yet unwashed vegetables and unopened bag of rice. (The fish fillets were waiting in the fridge; Will's cooking abilities may have been decidedly minimal, but he knew better than to let meat sit out.) "...Tharkay's coming over in three hours."
"And you have yet to turn the oven on." John grinned, and Will was deeply grateful just then for the fact that one of them was a fair hand at preparing food. "Once we have the cake baking, you'll be halfway done. Let me see that recipe."
Will handed it over wordlessly, and did as he was told as John translated the instructions the instructions to him. Within fifteen minutes, the cake was in the oven, and Will had only had to pick out three bits of egg shell.
"And next time," John said, as he creamed butter and sugar for icing and Will washed the broccoli, "you might consider buying a box of cake mix and a tin of icing. Or better yet, buy a cake."
"Lord," said John as he walked into the kitchen. His gaze swept across their small counter, crowded with bowls, pots, and various foodstuffs. "What're you doing, Will? Preparing a three-course meal?"
Will--who had been in the middle of squinting at a recipe he'd photocopied from a library book earlier that day and trying to decide what exactly it meant to 'fold in two eggs' before Granby showed up--replied with a defensive, "No." Then, after a pause, "It's only dinner and pudding. I thought soup would be pushing it."
"What for?" John was now examining the contents of an especially large bowl. "We can just have take-away tonight, you needn't risk burning the building down."
Will felt his cheeks grow slightly warmer. "Actually, it's for Tharkay and me. He's got work on Valentine's Day, and I'm going to have to study--"
"So you're celebrating early," John finished, sounding like he was doing his best to suppress a laugh. (It would, of course, have been good-natured, but Will, whose cooking skills were pressed to their limits when attempting to fry an egg, appreciated his restraint.) "I'll clear out for the night, then, if you'll camp out in the library on Valentine's Day proper. What're you making?"
"Glazed salmon with rice and vegetables, and chocolate cake with whipped cream." Will glanced over at his flatmate. "Have you got a date for Valentine's Day?"
It was Granby's turn to look slightly pink (or pinker, in his case--his face was an almost perpetual sunburn, it seemed). "I'll know tomorrow," was his evasion, and he quickly turned the subject back to the present. "Do you want any help?"
Will looked at the bowl of flour and cocoa he was trying to fold eggs into, the thin dusting of cocoa powder that coated half the counter, and the as-of-yet unwashed vegetables and unopened bag of rice. (The fish fillets were waiting in the fridge; Will's cooking abilities may have been decidedly minimal, but he knew better than to let meat sit out.) "...Tharkay's coming over in three hours."
"And you have yet to turn the oven on." John grinned, and Will was deeply grateful just then for the fact that one of them was a fair hand at preparing food. "Once we have the cake baking, you'll be halfway done. Let me see that recipe."
Will handed it over wordlessly, and did as he was told as John translated the instructions the instructions to him. Within fifteen minutes, the cake was in the oven, and Will had only had to pick out three bits of egg shell.
"And next time," John said, as he creamed butter and sugar for icing and Will washed the broccoli, "you might consider buying a box of cake mix and a tin of icing. Or better yet, buy a cake."
