Chapter Text
He’s making dinner already, he says.
Yes, he can feed himself, he says.
She tips the boiled chicken into a dish and shreds it, setting it on the floor for Dewey. Dewey at least seems appreciative, a little pile of bright orange fluff by her feet, as she sets about attempting to repurpose what she supposes were meant to be hardboiled eggs. Eggs are meant to have orange yolks, though, not grey, so she chucks them in the bin, shaking her head.
The man has boiled potatoes, eggs, and chicken in the same pot. For hours, if the coloring is anything to go by. She can’t help but giggle a little, endeared by the one thing Omega apparently can’t do. She was beginning to think he’d read about everything.
It’s about two hours later when Omega slinks in, slowly folding up his shirt sleeves. He peers over the pots on the stove, one cooking borscht, the other seasoned cabbage.
“There’s beef and potatoes in the oven,” Anya calls over her shoulder. She’s slicing fresh black bread, salted butter by her elbow.
“I told you I was cooking,” he says churlishly behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist. She whips around, laughing already as she’s reminded of the grey mass he’s deemed ‘food’.
“You live like that? Your brother can cook, it’s not just an android thing. You willfully choose to eat that?”
He shrugs, grinning despite himself at her indignant expression. “Protein. Starches. It counts.”
“It does not,” she retorts slowly, “Count. As anything. At all. I fed it to Dewey-“
“-Not his name-“
“And I just can’t fathom how you’re this useless in the kitchen,” she continues regardless as he sneaks a slice of bread from behind her. “Did you know that you only had about four spices in your cabinets?”
“Well, that’s just patently untrue,” he says, releasing her to dip the bread into the borscht. She grabs a spoon and smacks the back of his hand to very little reaction. “Most ramen come with little seasoning packets. Efficient.”
He’s going to be the death of her.
“It’s decided,” she declares, “I’m taking over your kitchen.”