Cooking

It had been a few weeks since the twin attacks on Minrathous and Treviso had happened, and the last three members of their ragtag team had agreed to join them. For the most part, everyone seemed to be meshing together as well as so many strong personalities could. They had their little skirmishes every so often. And by that, it was mostly Lucanis and Davrin doing … what did Rook call it? “Dick measuring”?

She definitely had a way of activating a curiosity in him that Lucanis didn’t know he had.

Example: This evening, while he was cooking dinner, both wardens were in the dining hall with him. Davrin and Lucanis had been exchanging their usual barbs when Rook changed the atmosphere by lazily looking directly at Davrin and saying in that sing-song voice she used when her face became entirely too fox-like for her words to mean any good, “You know how we handle dick measuring contests in the Wardens …” Davrin had gotten real quiet, eyes as big as saucers, as he slowly looked between Lucanis and Rook. Lucanis stopped stirring the sauce he was currently working on, absently whipped his hands on a towel he had over his shoulder, and leaned a hip against the stove.

“What did you do?” Lucanis asked, watching Spite stalk over to stand between the two elves, as if he could block Davrin from seeing Rook. The demon scowled at the male Warden and crossed his arms, as if he didn’t like something he just heard.

“You want me to explain it to him?” Rook asked, her grin growing wider and more unsettling in some way. It almost reminded him of Spite.

“Uh, nah. No, no. We’re good, Rook! We. Are. Good,” Davrin stood up, suddenly, clapping his hands together. “So, uh, when do you think dinner will be ready, Lucanis?” His voice cracked a little as he started to back up towards the doors. Now, Lucanis was really curious about what just happened between the two Wardens. It was like watching two crows talk in code.

“Forty-five minutes,” he replied, his brow furrowed in confusion. Their spat hadn’t been that bad, one would be stretching the meaning of the word by calling it a “spat”. This time, it had been good-natured ribbing between the two, like they forgot to keep up the pretense they didn’t like one another.

“Great!” he clapped his hands again and turned towards the doors. “I’ll be in my bunk until then,” came mumbling out as he practically ran out the doors. Lucanis shook his head and blinked a few times. He had never seen Davrin act that way. When he looked back at Rook and Spite, Rook was sitting back in her chair with her feet up on the armrest of the chair next to her. Spite had the exact same shit eating grin on his face that Rook had on hers as he circled around her to sit on the table to her left.

“What was that-” he started to ask when both Rook and Spite said, “Your sauce”, and he quickly went back to his cooking. Just in time, too. He wouldn’t have to start over.

“Can I help you with any of that?” she asked while popping olives in her mouth. “I’m not a great cook, but I can follow direction like you wouldn’t believe.” An olive was tossed in the air and caught in her mouth. Both she and Spite let out an identical, self-satisfied laugh.

+++

“Thank the Maker you agreed to join us, Lucanis! Honestly, if you were only good for cooking? Still well worth going to the Ossuary, and meeting your extremely scary grandma, for you!” Harding exclaimed as she fell back into her chair, spaghetti sauce still on her face and eyes half closed from eating so much. “And this was just spaghetti!”

“What did you call this again?” Bellara asked.

“Spaghetti All’Assassina. It’s not anything special. Really.” Lucanis still wasn’t used to the praise they would heap on him (even Davrin) for his cooking.

“Lucanis,” Neve started, fork wrapped in noodles covered in sauce, “you saw how we were living before you got here. You making toast is a big deal.”

“C’mon, now! I only burnt it the once!” Rook shouted, mouth full of food. Lucanis had made sure to make enough for about four times as many people as were there to make sure the Wardens had enough. They could, and did, put away an amount of food that could feed half a small country, just the two of them alone. He always thought “Warden Constitution” was a myth until meeting Rook.

“Yeah, because we wouldn’t let you take a cooking rotation anymore!” Harding guffawed, throwing a piece of bread in Rook’s direction. She caught it, easily, in her mouth, to the cheers of Davrin and Taash (and Spite and Manfred and Assan).

“Surely, it couldn’t have been that bad, my dear?” Emmrich asked as he raised his glass for more wine. Bellara dramatically placed a hand on his forearm to stop him.

“No, Professor,” she said in a hushed tone, “it was so bad that we wouldn’t let her come in here anymore!” It was enough to get all of them to start laughing together.

“All of you are traitors! Telling my secret shame!” Rook mock lamented. “They didn’t teach cooking at 'Warden School'! I can’t help it that I’m completely useless off the battlefield!” She was shoveling more spaghetti into her bowl, and then shoveling it into her face before she made it back to the table.

Lucanis looked around the table. Everyone was laughing, smiling, eating. Enjoying life. He had never experienced anything like this in his adult life, or even the majority of his childhood. He certainly had never been the reason for it. Even Spite was in a good mood as Manfred tried to teach him the hand game he played with Rook while Assan watched.

His chest felt warm and light. The weight that had been there for as long as he could remember was gone.

He didn’t want this night to end.