Snippet for Icegemini

[louiselux]

icegemini wanted Crowley cooking. So here he is, cooking! Be afraid.



Hell's Kitchen


Crowley fell panting through the door of his kitchen and slung his bags of shopping onto the table. He hadn't been to a supermarket in, well-- never. He'd been round, looked at his trolley, decided he didn’t really need a new DVD player, 25 bottles of Remy Martin, twelve Easter eggs or a foot spa, abandoned it and started again. Now, triumphant, he had everything ticked off his list.

The cookery book, which Aziraphale had dropped off for him that morning, looking rather dazed, said it was full of clear, step-by-step instructions. Half an hour later Crowley was close to weeping into the mixing bowl. Sniffing, he dabbed his eyes on his apron and grimaced. He needed more than a book. A small silver portable TV appeared on the kitchen counter. Glancing at the author page of his cookery book, he smiled a happy smile.

The famous TV chef and cookery book author was at home enjoying a rather nice bottle of Rioja when she was summoned by a minion of Hell to do his bidding. She was startled to find herself in the studio set of her kitchen, confusedly explaining how to make stock.

The knife was too sharp and he'd had to grow a fingertip back in a hurry, but he'd managed to get the blood out of the soup in the end, mostly. Then he'd forgotten that some things just need a gentle steady heat, not the blazing fiery heat of an inferno, so the duck was a bit crispier than he'd intended.

Eyes glued to the portable TV, which showed a worried-looking middle-aged woman deftly rolling out pasty and slicing apples, Crowley manoeuvred his rolling pin just as she did, yet his pastry broke into pieces. How could she make it look so easy? Fury roiled in him and he sank into a pleasant vision of the TV chef boiling in one of her own pans, atop a giant stove, the flames of Hell licking up from the oven. The programme ended abruptly, with screams. Guiltily he scraped the pastry together, shoved it in the case and tossed in the apples.

*

Aziraphale turned up at precisely 7pm, clutching two bottles of wine, a red and a white.

'I wasn't sure what you were making,' he said, nervously, eyeing the gory stains on Crowley's apron. The news that Crowley was cooking him a meal had come as a nasty shock, but he'd valiantly agreed, not wanting to hurt his feelings.

The meal went well, although Aziraphale turned a little pale over the fingertip he found in his soup, and there wasn't much actual duck under the layer of crispy skin, and the apple pie was a little unusual.

'Your favourite,' Crowley said, grinning and drowning the mis-shapen brown pastry lump with cream.

'Mmm.'

'So,' Aziraphale said afterwards, as they were emptying their fourth bottle of wine, 'what's all this with the cooking? I didn't know you had the urge to be domesticated.'

'Oh, just something to do. One has to develop these life skills, after all. And you've cooked for me before, just thought I'd return the favour.'

'Crowley! How kind! Yes, cooking is a skill. One I hope you'll practise a bit more before the next time,' he finished, only half under his breath.

'Well,' Crowley said, looking at him oddly, 'there's something else too. You see, there comes a time in every young demon's life when they want to settle down, have a home, maybe a family. With that special someone.' He slid along the settee and put his hand on Aziraphale's knee. Aziraphale retreated in horror.

'My dear Crowley! What? Oh! I'm very flattered really, but, but-- hang on, a family?' New and terrible thoughts flooded his brain and then, as he was fretting about how to tell Crowley that he really didn’t think they were suited, it trickled into his brain that Crowley was giggling, in fact had keeled over on the sofa and was weeping with laughter into the cushions.

Oh.

'Very funny.' He sipped his wine with an only slightly shaky hand, not entirely sure if he was relieved or disappointed.

Comments

[louiselux.livejournal.com]

Yay! You liked - am very glad. *g*

Aziraphale really did miss his chance - oh well, maybe he can steer the conversation back that way after another 5 bottles.