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A loud crash was audible in the distance, followed by an equally loud and extremely colourful string of curses leaving Jamison’s mouth. “For fucks sake! This stupid fuckin’ piece of shit thing!”
Mako and I looked at each other briefly after the loud sounds had come to an end. He quietly went back to his book while touching his nose, calling shot-not, and hiding a shit-eating grin behind the pages.
“You’re a right old cunt, you know that?” I spoke to him as I stood up, placing my book on the beaten up coffee table, he let out a hum, tapping the cover of his book, still with the proudest grin I’d ever seen in my life.
Walking through the safehouse, following the occasional loud sound that alerted me of the Junkers exact location, I wandered into the kitchen. Which, at this point, looked like he’d forgotten where his workshop was and was making bombs right where we cooked. We, being Roadie and I, and exactly why it was just Roadie and I was clued in when you looked around the room.
“What’re you doing, Jamie?”
He stood to alert and threw a tea towel over the pan or pot on the stove, it was hard to tell what exactly he was doing, though it was clear it was a poor excuse for cooking. “Um.. Nothin’, nothin’ at all, sweets.” He replied with a nervous grin, turning back to find the tea towel had not completely smothered the fire and the smoke was still rising.
Thankfully, we didn’t have a smoke detector. I could only imagine how much worse this situation would be if we did.
He pulled the tea towel off and tried to smother the remaining flames as the pot stayed alit, I reached past him, turning the gas off as I looked into the pot. He’d tried, keyword— definitely tried, to boil some vegetables.
“Jamie, honey, what the fuck are you trying to do?” I asked again, placing my hand on the shoulder closest to me, looking at his softened face as he stared down at the stove. His lips pressed into a line, threatening to turn into a disappointed frown.
“Well, uh.” He spoke, hesitantly which was never a good sign for a man that never knew how to shut up. He sighed and turned to me, opening the oven door while keeping eye contact. Looking down, I saw a tray with a completely charred, black, unnameable item sitting on it. I tried my best, really, though it was near impossible to hold back a laugh at his attempt.
He frowned again, pulling out the tray and throwing it and the pot on the bench next to the sink. “Are you just gonna stand there and make fun of me?” He spoke as he began trying to clean up his atrocities, using a butter knife to scrape off the black mess stuck to the tray and to de-attach the veggies stuck to the surface of the pan.
“No, honey, no. It’s not funny, I’m sorry. What were you trying to do?”
He angrily threw the knife in the sink, turning around and sliding down to the floor, hunching himself over. His hands crossed onto his knees as he buried his face into his arms, his eyes poking out to stare at the floor in front of him.
“Love? You alright? What were you trying to do?” I repeated to him softly, kneeling in front of his line of vision and supporting my balance on his arm.
“Ain’t it obvious? I was trying to cook. Did a piss-poor job.” He mumbled into his skin, his eyes looking up to meet my gaze. I gave him a soft smile and he just furrowed his eyebrows and looked away, continuing to sulk in the ball he made for himself.
“I mean, I guess so, but we both know you ain’t one for cooking.” He buried himself further into his hunch. “C’mon, what’re you thinking?”
His eyes stayed glued where they sat, which I’m pretty sure were on my kneecaps but I didn’t really want to question him while he was sulking over his attempt at a thoughtful action. He picked his head up, resting his chin on his arms, and he began mumbling to himself his brilliant plan.
“You’s take such good care of me and I love you’s. You’re my best friends. You know that?” I simply nodded, allowing him to continue talking as he just word vomited exactly how he was feeling to my feet. “And you’re both such great cooks, couldn’t ask for anyone better and all I wanted was to do something back. I really tried my best but I jus’ can’t do nothing right except blow stuff up.”
“Honey, you’re such a dag. We love you for you, yeah? And that includes knowing you belong as far away from the kitchen as possible.” He tried his best to keep a straight face as he looked up at me with his puppy eyes. “You’re not useless, in fact, I bet you don’t even realise the useful stuff you do.”
“Yeah? Like what?” He beckoned, trying to hide his smile.
“Every morning, you make us coffee. I have no clue how you’re so shit in the kitchen but make such good coffee, oh my god.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. You’re always tinkering, you’re always fixing stuff, you fixed the stove last week just to, well, set the thing on fire but the thought is there.”
He laughed softly, his eyes staying glued to my face. I stood up and reached my hand out, pulling him to his feet, he wrapped his arms around my torso and kept me there. It was an unexpected hug, though it was warm. He kept me in his tight grasp, our bodies closely intertwined.
“That’s another thing, you’re so warm. you keep us so warm.” I mumbled, nuzzling into his skin. “You keep us warm at night and in the mornings, you always make the bed after we’re up. You’re so good to us, honey. So good.”
He happily sighed, pulling away from the hug, a small kiss placed on my forehead. “Get me out of this kitchen before something catches from me just being here.” Before quickly ushering us out, moving us back to the lounge room, and as far away from the kitchen we could get him.