Warning: Seriously twisted, so probably, well definately crappy writing. ^.~
"Hungry Angel?"
Quatre raised an eyebrow staring at Trowa quizically. The tall boy shrugged sheepishly, leaning against the corridor.
"Don't say it like a pet name. I hate that."
"Sorry. So do you want a bite to eat? Um...angel...winged thing...."
"The name's Quatre," he said rolling his eyes. "And yes I'd love something if it's not too much trouble."
Trowa nodded and dissappeared into the kitchen. There were some bangs and clangs, then dead silence. Quatre sat politely in the living room waiting to be fed, but after nearly an hour, he got restless and made his way into the kitchen. He was surprised to find Trowa standing over the table, serveral cooking books sprawled over it.
"What are you doing?"
"Looking for a meatball recipe."
"Ah meatballs." An evil glint lit Angel's eyes and he shimmied over to hover over Trowa's shoulder.
"Meatballs eh? Well....first take beef. Mash it into the form of a ball. Hold together with tomatoe paste. Fry in spaghetti sauce and it's own fat."
Trowa turned towards him, their noses almost colliding. "Is it good?"
A burst of air from Quatre's lips tossed Trowa's bangs as the boy broke into a fit of laughter. "Oh GOD! Don't do what I just said. I was blowing that out my ass!" *laughs* "'cause I can't remember any recipes at the moment!" Angel said still grinning.
With the most dumbfounded face known to man, Trowa replied "Okay.....'cause I saw meatballs in spegetti sauce in cans today....."
Still laughing, Quatre slapped at a book on the table flipping its pages. "Yeah they're not half bad....let me find a real recipe."
"It's okay. I'll look myself."
"Touchy touchy. heheheh. But I could really go for some big, juicy, meaty balls right about now."
Evil turned sultry smile still on his face, Angel eased his way closer. Arms snaking beneith those propping up the taller boy still haunched over the many cook books. If Quatre's breath tickled his neck, Trowa showed no indication. Lowering his voice to a whisper, Quatre breathed, "What do you say?"
"Damn! Didn't know there were onions in meatballs."
Quatre's head practically hit the table. He covered his eyes smacking himself while a very blank Trowa regarded him. After taking a few deep breaths, Quatre calmed down and was his normal self again.
"You don't have to fucking include those." *gags* " I recall that when I make them, I use onion powder because I despise actually biting into an onion. Too strong of a flavour."
Trowa scratched his chin. "Oh so it's for flavour and not texture? Okay then. I'll omit the onion."
"Bread crumbs are essential though I'm guessing."
He contemplated this for a moment. "Um, hold on. Wufei is online and he's an excellent cook. I'll ask him."
The two made their way upstairs to Trowa's room where his computer was stationed. Quatre stood with his arms crossed as Trowa typed.
"I'm fairly sure breadcrumbs are necessary. Saphire used to do all the cooking when we lived together. My cooking consists of stuff with recipes handed to me from my sisters and anything that utilizes a BBQer."
A sudden image of the rough tuff Diabolos boss dressed in trousers, a T-shirt, chef's hat along with one of those horrible aprons that said "show me your dog and I'll show you my buns" flashed through Trowa's mind. He grimiced when the image started flipping burgers and winked at him. But all that quickly dissappeared as his brain finally kicked in and started asking 'just who the hell is Saphire and why were they living together?'.
The computer sounded 'uh-oh' for Wufei's reply.
/Wufei: Breadcrumbs are necessary. You use breadcrumbs and eggs to hold the meatball together, otherwise the hamburger just falls apart./
/Trowa: What's better? Regular meatballs or swedish meatballs or italian meatballs?/
From behind, Quatre added, "I like regular myself. All personal tastes."
"So substitute with onion powder is good for no onion?" Trowa asked while closing his icq. The other nodded repeatedly while he ushered the tall boy out of the room, hurrying him back into the kitchen to get some cooking started.
For some reason, Trowa was still hesitant, and continued to peruse the cookbooks while Quatre gathered the hardware they needed like pots and pans.
~half an hour later~
"Fuck, all the recipes call for chopped onion. Well they ain't getting it cause we don't got any."
By this time, Quatre was starving and running out of patience.
"SCREW ONIONS!!! Just use onion powder. Or none at all."
"Won't ruin the texture?"
Quatre was now ripping at his hair. "Heeeeellllllllll no!!"
*ding dong*
"I'LL GET IT!" the blonde boy roared and stomped his way out of the kitchen. Quatre practically tore the door from its hinges with frustration. "WHAT!!!!?"
Two wide eyed asians stood gawking at the door. It was Wufei and Meiran, the previous carrying a casserole dish.
"What's the matter with you? PMS?" Meiran asked letting herself in. Sighing Quatre sidestepped and leaned heavily on the door.
"I'm hungry and Trowa is an i.d.i.o.t."
From the kitchen came the faint call of, "Are you sure no onions is okay?"
Meirans eyes grew even wider as a deep growl eminated from Angel who's knuckles craked as he made for the kitchen.
"um...Quatre?"
******CENSORED******
~10 min later~
Many torn cook books, rope, and a cheeze-cloth filled with onion powder later, found the group sitting in the kitchen. Wufei and Meiran sat and watched while Quatre wolfed down the meatballs that the Changs had brought with them. Trowa however, sat a ways apart, bound and gagged with the makeshift onion.
"We..ah...hope you like it. Just so happened Fei Fei made meatballs tonight. He's the master of the kitchen." Meiran said as a large drop of sweat made its way down the side of her face.
"Mmmmm.....good stuff. Nm..m....Didn't...*gulp* ....expect you to be a cook Wufei." Face a mess with sauce, Quatre took a moment to wash it all down with some water. "Aaaaaaahhh. Always thought of you as the 'A woman's place is in the kitchen' type," he said with a wiggle of the eyebrows.
Arms crossed, face blank with an undesputably serious voice, he replied, " I feel mighty as Master of the Kitchen. I feel the justice of the spatula and the righteousness of the measuring spoons."
..........
*Silence*
~End~
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