Work Text:
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
The sound of the smoke detector had Gaz running from his room into the kitchen where a plume of smoke was billowing out of the oven. He opened the door, coughing at the cloud of smoke that bloomed in his face, waving his hands to disperse it. Inside the oven were what could only be described as charcoal briquettes of whatever they once were, blackened and ashy, resting sadly on a small pan on the top rack.
“Soap? Soap!?” Gaz called as he quickly grabbed an oven mitt, pulling the pan from the oven and setting it in the sink. He started the water running, hissing and sputtering over the heat of the pan and the now ruined food items.
“SOAP!” Gaz shouted, moving to the smoke detector which continued to blare loudly overhead. He waved the oven mitt back and forth to disperse the smoke and cease the ear splitting beeping. “ SOAP! ” he shouted again.
Slowly, a head appeared over the back of the sofa, hand running through the line of hair down its centre. “What’s all the racket about?” the owner said around a yawn.
“You almost burning down our flat. Again .” Gaz huffed. “How on earth did you sleep through all that?”
A shrugged shoulder. “Dunno.”
“What on earth were you cooking, anyway?”
“A chicken fillet and some garlic toast.”
Gaz swore under his breath. “How long have you been asleep out here, exactly?”
Soap glanced at the clock. “About an hour I guess.”
“And how long did your chicken and toast need to be in the oven for?”
A ruddy flush crept up Soap’s neck.
“You need to learn to set a timer, mate. At the very least. Or learn to cook something that doesn’t come from a box or a bag.”
“Oi,” Soap protested. “Don’t knock the pre-made stuff. It’s quick and convenient and I’ve been doing just fine with it up until now.”
“It’s only quick and convenient if you pay attention to it so it doesn’t end up in the rubbish bin every time.” Gaz sighed. “Do you know how much sodium is in those things? You’re going to keel over and find yourself in an early grave.”
Soap went to open his mouth and Gaz held up his hand, index finger pointed in warning. Soap grinned, but whatever his retort it fell silent in his mouth.
“You should let me teach you at least a couple simple recipes so that you can have some variety in your diet. Maybe eat a vegetable.”
“Potatoes are a vegetable,” Soap replied with a sulk and Gaz rolled his eyes.
“Yes, and you can eat them in forms other than just chips.”
“But I like chips,” Soap pouted.
Gaz couldn’t help but laugh. “So do I. Come on, let’s get the kitchen cleaned up. I’ll make us something else to eat.”
The charred remnants of the chicken fillet and garlic toast were dumped into the rubbish, and Soap scrubbed the blackened remains from the oven tray. As Soap did so, Gaz poked around in the fridge and the cupboards for ingredients to make a simple stir fry.
“Why don’t you get the rice on for us, eh?”
He instructed Soap to measure out a cup of rice into a pot and to give it a quick rinse. “Removes some of the starch and makes for a nicer end product. Now using the same cup, measure two cups of water.”
Soap did as instructed, placing the pot on a burner on the hob, turning the burner on. “When the water starts to boil, we’ll lower the heat and then when it stops bubbling, and the water is absorbed we’ll know the rice is done.”
Gaz directed Soap to get an onion from the pantry and tasked him with slicing it into half-moons. “You know how to handle a knife, so I trust that you can at least slice an onion.”
Soap gave him a side-long glance. “Slicing someone’s throat and slicing an onion aren’t really the same thing.”
Gaz assured him that he was capable, and he observed as Soap split the onion in half, peeling off the skin and running his knife through in smooth, even motions. “You’re a natural,” Gaz assured, patting Soap on the back as he tended to the protein for the meal.
They worked quietly, Gaz giving Soap directions from time to time, Soap following them easily, and soon enough they were sitting at the small table in their tiny kitchen with a bowl in front of each of them.
“Mm,” Soap hummed as he spooned some of their meal into his mouth. “Is good.”
Gaz smiled around his own mouthful. “It is,” he agreed.
They ate in amicable silence until their utensils were clinking against the bottom of their empty bowls. “You’re good in the kitchen with some direction,” Gaz commented. “Why haven’t you learned to cook before?”
Soap shrugged a shoulder. “No one to teach me, I ‘spose.”
“Well, we’ve got at least a week before we’re getting called back to base. I’d be happy to help you learn.”