In response to a ‘food’
challenge posted on one of the groups.
Ned ran his hand through his
hair and gave a frustrated tug. He couldn’t get over how organized he was when
working downstairs in the club while being so bloody flustered up here in their
kitchen.
“Maybe trying to cook a meal
on my own after only two lessons is kinda pushing it,” he muttered to himself.
“Not giving myself enough time is also adding to the pressure to get this done
before Flynn gets here.”
Glancing at the table he’d
just set, he groaned a silent admission that it didn’t look anything like the
way Liam had showed him. Unable to remember the proper placement of the cutlery,
Ned had settled for bunching forks, knives and spoons together on the left side
of the plastic placemats. Having no inclination for attempting fancy napkin
art, he merely folded two pieces of plain, white, paper towels in half and
slipped them under the silverware.
Getting two dinner plates out
of the cupboard, he saw one had a bit of dried-on food from a previous meal. He
quickly washed it off and dried the plate on the front of his shirt before
setting them both on the table.
“Damn it!” he hollered as he
rushed over to pull the overflowing pot off the burner. Liam had told him good
cooks taste the food periodically during cooking. He had tasted it a few
minutes ago and the potatoes had still been a bit crunchy. Now they were
probably overcooked.
“Oh well, I’m gonna mash them
anyway,” he reasoned, carefully draining off the water to avoid burning
himself. He already cut his finger peeling the darn things and thought he’d
gotten off easy when the bandage he’d put on had come off in the sink instead
of the salad.
He frowned mournfully when he
finished mashing the potatoes and noticed the small flecks of missed peel in them.
“Screw it!” he hotly
declared, and proceeded to dump the vegetables in a bowl. “Extra fiber is good
for us.”
Next he painstakingly removed
the broccoli he’d cooked, from pot to serving bowl with a slotted spoon, taking
care to only transfer the top two-thirds of it. “Hope the burnt smell doesn’t
affect the taste,” he murmured, still not quite willing to admit he was in over
his head.
“At least the meat will be
good.” He’d cheated by purchasing an already cooked chicken from a
neighbourhood store.
Ned had barely finished
setting the meal on the table when his partner arrived home.
Flynn paused outside the door
of their private suite and wrinkled up his nose at the odour coming from
within. Unable to guess what it was, he briefly wondered if maybe cooking dirty
socks smelled like that.
Once inside, he realized with
some alarm that Ned had indeed been cooking; although for the life of him he
couldn’t figure out why. Ned absolutely loathed doing anything even vaguely
resembling food preparation. Following the light whiffs of residue smoke
floating in the air, he headed for the kitchen where his worse fears were
confirmed.
“Surprise!” Ned merrily announced,
a big grin of self-satisfaction lighting up his face and his arms spread wide.
“Indeed it is,” Flynn dryly
commented as he took in the mess. The small counter was almost completely
hidden by debris and splatters of food dotted the floor. He silently questioned his eyesight about
seeing a couple droplets of blood among the potato peelings but instantly
decided he didn’t want to go there.
Not picking up on his
partner’s lack of enthusiasm, Ned pulled out a chair. “Here, have a seat. We
don’t want supper getting cold, do we?”
“Heaven forbid,” Flynn responded
and reluctantly accepted the invitation. He surveyed the food on the table and made
up his mind to make the best of things for Ned’s sake. As unappetizing as it
all looked and smelled, he did appreciate the effort made to please him.
Ned watched the older man
struggling to eat and soon realized Flynn was forcing it down in order not to
hurt his feelings.
“I’ve been getting cooking
lessons from Liam. I guess I should have waited until I caught on more before
trying to do it on my own, but I was anxious to surprise you.”
“Well you certainly
accomplished that, my pet.”
“I’m gonna get better, Flynn.
I just have to give it more time. A few more lessons and a lot more practise
and I’ll be okay. I’m really enjoying it more than I ever thought I would and
probably should have done it long before now.”
“I’m sure all that’s true,
Ned. I can only imagine how difficult it must have been to do all this without
any help. The chicken is certainly delicious.”
Ned screwed up his face.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t cook it. I bought it from the deli down the street,” he
embarrassingly confessed. “I only had to heat it up.”
“And you heated it up
perfectly, love.” Flynn laughed when the younger man merely rolled his eyes at
the teasing.
“Is there any dessert?” Flynn
dared to ask, rather hoping for a negative response. He got to his feet and
carried their dirty dishes over to the sink.
“Sure there is. And it’s one
of your favourites.” Ned stood up and fetched two small bowls from the
refrigerator.
Sitting down again, Flynn
tentatively moved the mound of whipped cream aside to discover some chocolate
pudding underneath it. He was thankful for Ned’s fondness of this artificial
white stuff that came in an aerosol can, as it was in all likelihood
responsible for making the brown, lumpy mass it covered anywhere near
palatable.
“Not bad at all,” Flynn mused
around a mouthful. He was almost beginning to enjoy it when he bit into a small
lump of dry pudding mix. He quickly shovelled in more cream to make swallowing
easier.
Seeing his partner’s actions,
Ned offered an explanation. “I only used a spoon to mix it. I figured it would
dissolve fast as it said ‘instant’ on the box.”
Flynn shook his head in
loving exasperation. “Still too nervous to use the hand mixer, right?” he
asked, remembering the last time Ned had used it. The cord had fallen off the
appliance and into the cake batter. Ned had immediately picked it up and before
Flynn could stop him, had put it in his mouth to lick it clean. He’d received a
bit of an electric shock at the time, as well as a couple of hard swats for his
carelessness.
“Not exactly. I didn’t even
think to use it. I sorta knew I had bitten off more than I could chew but
stubbornly carried on. Sorry about the mess and all.” Ned sighed dejectedly and
slumped back in his seat.
Flynn reached across the
table and clasped the younger man’s hand in his own. “Ned, sweetheart, this was
a very thoughtful act on your part. I want you to know I appreciated it very
much. I can tell you made an honest effort to do your best. And you’re right;
you will get better in time….much better. I am thrilled with you finally
showing an interest in cooking. Taking lessons without my knowledge in order to
surprise me makes it a wonderful gift of love as far as I’m concerned.” He
smiled at the change of expression on his sub’s handsome face.
Ned blushingly smiled back,
grateful for his Dom’s kind words of encouragement. They were a healing balm to
his injured spirit.
“Well at least I can still
make a fairly decent cup of coffee for you and there are some store-bought
cookies in the pantry. And thank you for patiently suffering through this first
attempt of mine.” Ned got up, walked around the table and fervently kissed his
lover.
“Coffee and cookies sound
great. After which we can pay a visit to the playroom if you like.” Flynn laugh
when Ned looked at him as if he’d grown a second head.
“And just when have I not
liked?” Ned gleefully retorted.
The End
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