House of Heart and Cholesterol [Lion, Nephero]

[Lion]

"I'm not living in a house with a bunch of useless boys."

That was what mama said after all.  Funny how 'bunch' meant his dad and him, and 'useless' meant if he couldn't hold his weight up around the house - the kitchen in particular - he could find himself another place to live. Grisham without a doubt had an inkling that if he wanted to live like a bum, act like a bum, beg like a bum, he could be out on the street like a bum - nevermind the fact that he was just a boy of 10 at the time he'd first set a serious hand in the kitchen.

Mama would kick him out without a doubt, and Pop right behind him. Mama didn't play any games.

And thankfully neither did Grisham. Not when the knife in his hand chopped up the extra pack of bacon he'd bought and cut them in half and set them out to be fried later on. Next came the chicken wings that he'd set out into a bowl he'd found, going about the process of marinating the steaks he'd bought with full bottles of Loony Lon's Atomic Sauce. He was generous with the spices, keeping a small amount of salt on hand as he casually massaged the marinade into the steaks, already sweating from the sheer heat of the sauce flitting up to his nostrils.

Grisham just listened, since he'd have plenty of opportunity to interrupt later on when it came to the birthday boy and his dear friend. For now he concentrated on the cooking, not even focusing on his drink - since his hands being covered in meat and atomic sauce made for glass holding even more inconvenient.

Inconveniently slippery. Like his hands, like the slope, like the way Yavul spoke about being unlucky...  Bachelor's life, huh. Was it still technically a Bahelor's life? Grisham felt his stomach turn a little and he tried to make the casual motion to the sink to rinse his hands off just that, casual.  Turning the knobs with his wrists and letting the cool water slip over his calloused hands jsut as the soap bubbled over them and he found himself scrubbing his palms a bit too methodically.

The water was off and he dried his hands on the towel, glancing up at Yavul when his name was finally mentioned. Well it wasn't his name. But it was his name. Yavvy's name for him and a little flip in his gut sent a smile on his face and a jolt run south. Gray blue eyes flitted back to Yavul and he quietly offered the old Yote that smiled.

That cheese was just about Yote skin, but still he kept on grating. The sweet sweet man as he went about doing his best to help out in a place that wasn't his element.  His heart swelled inside his chest, stomach doing another flip. Then he remembered his tongue and grinned out to Bluhana. Yup, she was Bluhana forever now.

"The man woulda been eating grout if it half resembled a JJ's double decker. I had to intervene before it was too late. It was about time someone showed the man was real food fasted like. Not that JJ's ain't divine in it's own way. I probably never woulda had any if it weren't for that rat bastard over there," he snorted and fixed the steaks on the pan he intended to shove into the oven, having made small cuts in the surface where the marinade could seep into the meat itself.

"Hell if it wasn't for Yavul, I never would have known what the hell good eating Solartan cooking really was. Maybe the man makes burnt mac and cheese, but goddamn, scorpion steaks get my mouth watering just thinking about it," he commented idly, remembering that hunt, sitting behind Yavul, concentrating on firing that rifle and making desert scorpion guts explode in the air.  Woops, another jolt and butterflies.

Heh, was it hot in here? Suddenly his collar felt a little snug.

Grisham kept his part of the kitchen as disorganized as possible and another pot where he was dousing it with cooking oil to deep fry the wings was casually being situated on Blu's stove. Now things were really getting hot in here.

"So Blu, I gotta say I'm pretty impressed with your set up here. Everything is just so accessible. I like it a lot, amigato. You spend a lot of time in the kitchen?"

[GoblinFae]

Blu chuckled with Yavul, though her own voice was softer as it joined his. Life really was always something. The drain never stopped spinning and you either rode it or drowned in it. Coming back and settling in Margad had most certainly been drowning. If anything it had felt like clinging to the very rim of the drain with water beating down on you from all angles. Haviah, Havina, Aurora: those places had been about climbing back out of the pipe and riding the wave but it still hadn't felt like much of a ride. Just an existence.

It hadn't been until Amristah that Blu finally felt like she was starting to get her stride again, cresting the waves instead of being dragged around by them. She knew where Yavul was coming from when he spoke like that. She often felt it herself. But, a decade as a divorcee and an almost coulda been-shoulda been widow had taught her not to take that self-depreciating shit from others. She couldn't heal herself but if she could help someone else, then she damn well was going to try. She was a doctor after all.

"Oh I knows plenty a sugah honey that would want to snatch ya right up, Agave," Blu giggled as she sidled up beside him. For a brief moment she reached an arm around his middle and gave him a tight squeeze, her head digging into his shoulder out of unspoken compassion and understanding. "Gods both know I woulda married ya faster'n a lamb tail shakes if ya'd liked girls. Jus' be grateful you dinna go off marryin' th' first boy that told ya he lurved ya."

She let go of him then, gently pulling the grater away so that she could scoop the cheese into a bowl for melting. "'Sides sounds like you're mighty lucky to have a good friend here feedin' you something good as often as a spranger swims. I'd be rightly cross if you done beat my ass to the crypt, Agave. I'm older'n you and I ain't gearing up to croak yet so don't you dare try'n beat me there first boy, or I'll bring you back and whip your ass good."

Laughter bubbled up as she moved back to the counter only to take in the small square of chaos that Grisham had created so quickly. There he was chopping away at bacon, clearly a master with a kitchen knife and yet everything was in complete disarray. It made her hackles rise just seeing it. For had this been her mama's kitchen or her own surgery room, all hell would've broken loose.

For Yavul though she bit her tongue. She wanted nothing more than to holler like a proper Solartan woman at the injustice to her kitchen but really it was such a small thing in the grand scheme of things. Life could be so fleeting, why burn yourself out on a little mess?

Another pot joined the chaos on the stovetop as she measured out flour and milk and stirred quickly. Teasingly her hip collided with Grisham's in a playful pass at kitchen dominance to nudge him out of her space. "Why thank ya, Cher. I do quite enjoy my kitchen. Though this is probably th' firs' time since I've moved here that I've gotten th' chance t' do anything like home. All I evers wanted since 'fore I was married was a big kitchen like Mama. Why she'd have a fright if she saw us three now, wouldn't she, Agave? Mama always ran a tight ship."

As she chattered water was boiled, pasta tossed in, and cheese began to melt. Where Grisham's artistry was disorder, Blu's was neat precision. You could count on her to work just like clockwork though there was just as much heart and soul in her task as her unspoken food rival. Wordlessly she turned down the dial on the oven as in her mind he had set it far too warm to cook properly without drying things out. This was still her home-cooking even if he did just drench the steaks in that gods-awful hot sauce. No, that hadn't escaped her either.

"So what do y'all do now? Yavul last I hear tell you made Valkyrie. Darry was so proud. You still running with that rabble?" Blu looked to Yavul with a wink over her shoulder before bumping Grisham with her hip again and looking at him from the corner of her eye. "And you? You one o' them too or they got ya doin' more civilized things than," her voice began to break as the giggles started to take over "makin' sordid deals over pants repurchasin'?"

[nephero]

   “He ain’t wrong,” Yavul said, giving a casual one-armed shrug even as he felt more like grabbing up the bottle of brandy and just cutting right to the chase. And then promptly gave into that compulsion and poured his glass full of the liquor, not even bothering with the mix before gulping it down, “savin’ me from a lifetime a’ shitty foil-wrapped dinners. Pretty sure it’d break some kinda Adstreian code t’ let me go on not eatin’ real food. An’ I ain’t rememberin’ th’ steaks bein’ anythin’ that much t’ write home over.”

   He probably needed to slow down on his intake this far away from dinner being ready, but the idea of being sober was just not something Yavul wanted to handle right then. His stomach twisted painfully, either because of the booze or something else, but Yavul was willing to pretend like he’d be fine after popping the last crumb of cheese into his mouth. Just a little something on his stomach, and nothing to do with just how goddamn useless he was. Scorpion steaks were just butter and fire, after all. The height of Solartan cuisine, it most certainly was not. More just an excuse to go out and shoot the shit out of nasty scuttling critters.

   ‘First boy that told ya he lurved ya’, Yavul’s ass. That’d have been… shit. That’d have been Ranea, wouldn’t it? Somehow the thought was hysterical. Not that Ranea was a terrible person— far too pristine, maybe, but not terrible— but shit if it didn’t say quite a bit that the only viable suitor proclaiming their love for Yavul was someone who didn’t know him at all. Somehow, that was even worse.

   “I don’t think they’d much like some ragtag bumpkin stormin’ up t’ Apcintoch every day. That’s… that’s thus far been th’ extent a’ them ‘plenty a sugah honey’ what’d do any kinda snatchin’.” he said with another swig of brandy, mouth twisting into a grin just to have something to do, the alternative being terribly close to trembling for Yavul’s taste. And that was the last thing he wanted to deal with when this was supposed to be a fun reunion with one of his oldest friends and a new, though infinitely dear one. “Dyna knows it plenty, he’s been th’ one saddled with me for it. Though casual destruction a’ property has been damn fun.”

   He was probably rambling at this point, but yet another glass of brandy made sure he didn’t care about anything he was saying. All that mattered was he was leaning against the island counter and had yet to hit the floor, and in the swirl of the room there was still the solid figure of Grisham near the sink, all strong back and long hair and Yavul was overwhelmed with the impulse to just stumble right over and latch onto the other Commander as best he could.

   It was probably for the best that Yavul had been drinking; it kept him from acting on any of those impulses, and the hiss of hot oil was clue enough that jostling into Grisham at that moment was wildly ill-advised. And so he focused down on the countertop, following the patterning in the marble with his eyes, emptying his next glass and trying terribly hard to understand the words being spoken to him and respond in kind.

   “Darry… yeah. Yeah. Still a Valkyrie. Commander, you can believe it. Didn’t know he knew. Didn’t even know where he was them last days. Weren’t long after gettin’ sent out into th’ thick of it.” He shook his head, hard, trying to ignore how the room spun and his stomach churned. Blinking rapidly and forcing another smile, he looked up at Blu with his best attempt at seeming normal and not completely sloppy. “Me an’ th’ kids visited a while back. Didn’t get pelted with nothin’ so I guess he still approves.”

[Lion]

Grisham tried to be civil. He reminded himself that this wasn't his kitchen, that this meal wasn't for himself or even for his squaddies. No, this was for Yavul, and this was Yavul's best friend and they were trying to catch up on old times and he was just the odd man out. And...it was going surprisingly well. Much better than he ever would have anticipated for such an out of place rendezvous in a grocery store. Suddenly he became the third wheel, and the thought alone made his stomach do awful flips.

Both that it bothered him that much, and also because he knew whatever opinion Blu had of him wasn't very high. Blu didn't have to like him, hell she could hate his stinking guts for all he cared. He wasn't sticking around for her sake. It was Yavul's gotdamn birthday and he was going to try and make the best of it. Try for fuck's sake because his best friend wanted him to. And it'd be a shit thing to do to pout and whine and make a thing of it when it wasn't even about him in the first place.

Grisham's felt his stomach twist the first time Blu collided her hip into his. He was almost done, and was about to set everything into the oven when it happened, and he staggered to the side a little, keeping quiet and just listening to that conversation. It wasn't his place to open his big mouth anyway, and it was easier to focus on make sure the chives were diced nicely.

His stomach flipped again, unsavory and he took another drink of his brandy.  He was trying to be civil.  "Ha. Ha. Ha. Yeah, this is your kitchen. Something something, Solartans and their cookin' and running around with butter mashed in their hands," he hissed softly, even playfully as he glanced at her from the corner of his eye, feeling his hand twitch. "Nah, nah. I'm Commanding the Adstreian Hellions."  Quick and to the point. If that didn't say all it needed to say, he wasn't going to delve further into any explanation not when..

Fuck! She did it again. The hip nudge and Grisham took his cue to vacate that section of the kitchen.  Turning around he saw Yavvy's face, and the lost look therein.  Shit they better get this food done stat.  Wasn't that a doctor's term?  Shit, for a doctor, Blu sure was taking an eternity for taking care of her guest. Delicate procedures or not.  Grisham walked by Yavul and reached up, his head swimming a lot less than Yavul's, booping the Valkyrie right on the nose.  He grinned at him and winked, maneuvering around to the cabinet just next to the island.

And in that lovely pantry he grabbed the first thing he could and tucked it under his arm.  "You can keep yakking over old times, Bluhana, and let Mr. Dynamo finish up for you. Sounds like you got a lot of catching up to do," he sighed slightly, taking the first moment he saw of Blue being clear and wrapping an arm around her waist and hoisting her up over his shoulder. He didn't even say anything more as he used his free foot to hook underneath a dining chair, flip it out to face them and planted her behind right in it.

"Yavul, stir that cheese. Don't let it burn. Gentle strokes," he ordered to Yavul.

Grisham took the rolled up plastic wrap from underneath his arm and stretched it out, extending both arms around her so that try as she might, she could push and try and protest, but all she'd be planting her hands against was the wall of his chest. Grisham flattened the plastic against her arms and torso, wrapping it all around her as quickly and easily as he could. The roll moved with easy and only caught a few times on his hand as he made work of getting her squirming.

"Okay Yavul, thanks. I'll take over from here," he sighed and returned to the task at hand in the kitchen.  And winked again at him. Trying not to cackle at the plastic wrapped sausage noddle that Blu looked like all strapped to that chair in cling wrap.  It was fucking hilarious.

[GoblinFae]

Yavul's drinking didn't go unnoticed especially as Blu found herself focusing more and more on him and feeling the pinging of his emotions letting off a small hailstorm all without most of her notice. She couldn't be sure what exactly had caused that but perhaps mentioning his lost brother hadn't been the smartest of moves after seeing him for the first time in a decade.

Her attention was drawn away though as she caught the tail-end of Grisham's griping and her eyes narrowed in silent displeasure. Bumpkin butter bashing her ass! She breathed a bit easier when he vacated her space and she was able to take more control of what was going on in her workspace.  It was to be short lived though as one moment she was gathering up her empty packaging and wrappers and the next she was quite literally off her feet.

She howled, squirming and struggling to get free without causing the man any serious harm. The last thing she wanted to do was anger Yavul and send his apparently dear friend off to the hospital because she had gone and damaged more than a man's pride. Blu hardly had any time to realise she was situated in one of her chairs before the green-haired bastard had her fully plastic-wrapped to it and unable to tear free.

"Aw hell naw!" she growled, trying to thrash her torso side to side in hopes of loosening or stretching the cling wrap. It was to no avail though as it simply squeaked and crackled without budging. "I was about t' say hows we got three Commanders in one kitchen t'nigh' but all I see right about now a heathen, a traitor, and a commander. Wipe that grin off your gob, Agave or so help me gods both it'll be you tied to a chair next!"

For all her bark though, a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Grisham could pay later. First things first though, she needed to get herself out of this sticky situation. Tensing every muscle in her arms and shoulders, Blu attempted to thrust her arms up and outward at the same time as she twisted her torso quickly and tightly. The hope was to thrust an elbow or shoulder up and out enough to create some more space to maneuver herself in. What the combat doctor had not accounted floor was the smoothness of the kitchen floor nor the effect her sudden momentum upon it would have on the chair. With a very sudden and very loud bang, Blu Moon went from upright and effectively hogtied to on her side and still hogtied to a toppled chair.

While her side stung a bit there wasn't much else hurt outside of her pride. Blu burst out into laughter at being so stuck and helpless. "Fine, fine! You win this round. Now help me up and lemme have my drink. I suppose Agave if'n ya just steer my chair towards the table we can chitter like hens in a henhouse."