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Martyn rolled his eyes as another yell of frustration came from the kitchen. The smell of burning emanated from the doorway as he sat on the couch, flicking through his phone.
Jimmy came out, tearing his hair out between his fingers and giving a frustrated growl.
“This is ridiculous!” He shouted, “There’s no way I’m going to be able to make this work!”
He dropped his head into his hands, “Grian’s birthday is gonna be ruined!”
“Maybe don’t make torta frita then,” Martyn suggested, not looking up from his phone.
“But torta frita is Grian’s favourite!” Jimmy protested, “And since Dad’s away and not going to be able to make it, I thought I could at least try!”
“Timmy, you know you can’t cook,” Martyn criticised.
“I know,” Jimmy sighed, “But I think if I try one more time I’ll get it right.”
“You said that the last batch,” Martyn called after him as he ran into the kitchen again, “And the batch before that, and the one before that.”
Jimmy didn’t reply.
The doorbell rang loudly and Jimmy poked his head out of the doorway, “Could you get that?”
Martyn sighed and stood up, “Sure thing.”
He headed to the front door and pulled it open to see a short blaze mutant with flickering yellowish-red hair and a nervous looking smile.
“Hi Martyn!” Tango greeted, “Erm, is Jimmy in by any chance?”
“Hi Tango,” Martyn replied, “Yeah, he’s just through in the kitchen. You’re welcome to come in and wait for him.”
“Thank you!” Tango followed him through to wait by the kitchen door. Martyn walked back to the couch.
There was a crash and a shout from the kitchen and Tango jumped and flinched. Martyn just ignored it. Jimmy staggered out, covered in bread dough and flour.
He spotted Tango, who had covered his mouth in a polite attempt not to laugh at the state he was in, and turned bright red.
“Oh! Tango! Hi!” He stuttered, trying to brush the flour off of him and failing, “I didn’t realise you were coming!”
“I was dropping by to see if you were still good for lunch,” Tango smiled, “If not, that’s fine!”
“I-” Jimmy was cut off by the smoke alarm going off. His eyes dilated and he ran back into the kitchen with a shout, trying to turn it off. Eventually he managed to and came back out of the doorway with a sigh.
“Sorry Tango, I wish I could,” he muttered, digging his foot awkwardly into the carpet, “But I’m trying-”
“And failing!” Martyn added unhelpfully.
Jimmy glared at him, then continued, “To cook torta frita for Grian’s birthday since our dad’s away and he always made Grian torta frita. But it’s not really working. So I don’t think I’m going to be able to go out for lunch, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s no problem,” Tango patted Jimmy on the shoulder before wiping his hand discretely on his trouser leg to get the flour off of it, “You said you were making torta frita?”
“Yeah,” Jimmy nodded.
“I can help if you like!” Tango offered, “I love making torta frita!”
“You do?” Jimmy blinked in surprise.
“Yup! I used to make it all the time for Zed,” Tango bounced into the kitchen, “I’ll get everything set up!”
Martyn gave a sigh and a stretch before he got up off the couch, “I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it. Ren wanted to chat anyway so we might as well go out for coffee.”
He grabbed his coat and opened the door, with a yell of, “Don’t burn the kitchen down while I’m away!” and then shut the door behind him.
Tango giggled at that, “Let’s hope we don’t. Alright, let’s get started. I’ll sort the flour, could you melt the butter and then add it to the warm water please?”
Jimmy stared a little blankly, “You have to melt the butter?”
“Yes,” Tango looked up at him, half disbelieving, half amused, “You didn’t know that?”
“I thought you rubbed it in like when you make shortbread,” Jimmy muttered, staring at the floor.
Tango shook his head with a chuckle, “No, you don’t. You really don’t know what you’re doing, do you? Good thing I showed up when I did.”
“Yeah,” Jimmy laughed a little dryly, “Yeah it was.”
He stuck the butter in a microwavable bowel and placed it in the microwave before heading to the sink to get the water for it, making sure it was the right temperature.
Tango grabbed a pinch of salt and sprinkled it into the flour before adding a teaspoon of baking powder, making a well in the centre, “Once we’ve made the dough, we’ll fry them and then they’ll be ready for Grian’s birthday.”
The microwave beeped and Jimmy pulled the bowl out with a pair of oven gloves, pouring the hot butter into the well Tango had made in the flour before adding the water and grabbing a spoon to mix the dough with, handing it to Tango, “Thank you Tango, you have no idea how grateful I am. You’ve saved Grian’s birthday.”
“It’s nothing,” Tango smiled a little bashfully, his cheeks tinged pink at the praise. He flushed even more when Jimmy took the opportunity to kiss his forehead when he walked around to put the butter bowl in the sink for washing up.
Jimmy grinned at the slightly flustered state Tango was in, “What a cutie.”
“Shut up,” Tango muttered, stirring the mixture, but he was smiling.
A few minutes later, the dough was made, rolled out and cut up, shaped and ready to fry. Jimmy filled the pan up with oil and Tango walked over with one of the discs of dough. They all had little holes in the middle to stop them from puffing up too much.
“Ok, so you’ve got to fry it until it’s golden,” Tango explained, placing the disc in the pan, making sure not to accidentally touch the hot oil whilst he did so, “And then slide it onto the cooling rack. When they’re all done, we can stick them in the fridge and then clean up!”
Jimmy watched as Tango expertly flipped the dough over to fry both sides and then slid it onto the cooling tray with the fish slice they were using. It looked delicious.
“Now you try,” Tango stepped aside to let Jimmy have a turn. Jimmy hummed nervously and carefully placed a dough circle in the pan, flinching as the oil spat.
“It’s alright, you’ll be fine,” Tango gently took Jimmy’s wrists in his hands, “I’ll guide you.”
He helped Jimmy flip the dough over in the pan and Jimmy tried to focus on cooking it properly, but Tango had perched his chin on Jimmy’s shoulder so he could see what he was doing and his lips were tantalisingly close.
“I really want to kiss you right now,” he admitted.
Tango blinked and then laughed, realising what he meant, “We can after this. We don’t need one of us getting burnt.”
“Agreed,” Jimmy nodded.
He scooped the torta frita up in the fish slice and placed it on the cooling tray.
“There you go!” Tango cheered, letting go of Jimmy, “See! You can make torta frita!”
Jimmy smiled gratefully at the complement and grabbed another piece of dough, placing it in the pan. Soon they were all fried and placed on a tray, ready to be put in the fridge and everything was turned off and cleaned up. Tango counted the torta frita out and then took one and split it in half, offering half to Jimmy, “Give it a try.”
Jimmy took it and bit into it. It was still warm and tasted delicious, crispy on the outside and soft on the inside.
“That’s amazing!” He said, eyes wide at how good it tasted, “I can’t believe I made this!”
“You smashed it!” Tango grinned, swallowing his mouthful.
“I wouldn’t have without you,” Jimmy countered, “Thanks so much for the help.”
“You’re welcome,” Tango replied, “I’m happy to help whenever you need me to.”
Tango took the tray and slid it in the fridge and then looked over at the big pile of washing up in the sink, reluctance obvious in his eyes.
“Martyn?” Jimmy suggested.
“Martyn,” Tango agreed, “Then he can say he helped in some way.”
Jimmy laughed and the pair left the kitchen, sitting down on the couch, Tango resting his head on Jimmy’s shoulder as they sat in a comfortable silence.
Jimmy glanced back over to Tango, “So, about that kiss?”
Tango turned to look at him and giggled, shuffling so he was facing him properly, “What about it?”
“Could I maybe have one? Please?” Jimmy asked, batting his eyelashes.
“Perhaps,” Tango smiled and took Jimmy’s chin in his hand before he drew their mouths together. It was sweet, soft and gentle, neither rushing to deepen nor end it. Jimmy could taste the residue of the torta frita on Tango’s lips as he wrapped an arm around Tango’s neck. Tango carded a hand softly through Jimmy’s hair and he shivered delightedly.
Eventually they pulled away, both slightly out of breath but happy.
“I always forget how good of a kisser you are,” Tango chuckled, pressing his forehead to Jimmy’s, the soft flames tickling Jimmy’s scalp. They were never hot enough to burn him, Tango was always careful of that.
“Same with you,” Jimmy said, “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Tango said, then sat back a little, “Is that the first time we’ve said that to each other?”
“Possibly,” Jimmy thought, “Yeah, I think so.”
“I like saying it,” Tango said, “I love you.”
“Love you too.”
They sat in silence for a moment, which was broken by the door opening and Martyn walking in.
“Something smells good,” He mused. He looked down at the pair on the couch, “It went to plan then.”
“Better than,” Jimmy grinned smugly, “Grian is going to have some torta frita for his birthday.”
“Well colour me impressed,” Martyn nodded.
“Oh, there’s a little bit of washing up for you to do as well,” Tango smirked, “Just a little.”
Martyn’s face fell, “What?”
He sprinted through to the kitchen and promptly swore.
Jimmy and Tango both fell about laughing on the couch, Tango laughing so hard that he flopped into Jimmy’s lap and just lay there giggling for a few moments.
“Good luck with it!” Jimmy called, the biggest smile on his face.
Martyn grumbled as the pair burst into laughter again.
Those two were going to be the death of him.