Dust never understood the appeal of cooking.
Well, okay, that was a bit of a lie. It's not that he hasn't ever cooked a day in his life or anything- he had a brother to look out for, after all.
But it's been so long since his hands have held any pots, pans, or wooden spoons.
Even longer since his hands touched cold metal.
"How can you trust that it won't cut you?" He couldn't help but voice his question out loud.
He knew Horror's vision wasn't the best. He knew that, in some cases, the big guy was really sloppy with his craftsmanship. Dust couldn't STOP thinking about that fact as he watched the knife in Horror's hand slide through the potatoes with ease.
Horror tilted his head, but didn't look up from his work. He simply crooned a small, thoughtful sound. "... Maybe it's 'cause its signed a deal with me. Swore to never nick my fingers ever again, or else I'd go find it's mama knife 'nd give her to Killer for a bit."
Horror waited a beat, glancing up to see if Dust cracked a smile.
Horror went back to chopping. "... Why'd ya ask?"
Dust's gaze never left the blade. "Don't know. I just wanted to."
Horror huffed. "mm yeah?" He took another break from his cutting, turning the knife in his hand. "Did ya wanna give it a-"
Dust held up his hands reflexively, his shoulders tensing up.
Another long pause. They stared at each other, both wide-eyed like deer in headlights.
Then, slowly, Horror put the knife down on the counter. "... why don't you help me mix 'nstead?"
Dust didn't realize he was holding his breath until he had tried to respond. His shoulders gradually fell back to their relaxed positions, the awkward stiffness in his joints subsiding. "... Okay. Sure." His hand reached out, and Horror gently placed a wooden spoon in his hand. "I can do that."
Dust was led over to the stove, where a pot full of stew had been bubbling away quietly. Horror reached over his shoulder, turning one of the knobs to lower the heat.
"here, like this.." Horror murmured, guiding Dust's hands as they stirred the pot together. "Gently.. like you're folding it."
Dust followed along with the motion slowly, watching as the contents would turn and bubble. It was almost hypnotic- in a calming sort of way.
Horror hummed. "that's it.. you're doin' great."
He went through the motion a few more times with Dust before easing him into doing it on his own. Once he was sure Dust could manage, Horror slipped away from his view.
Occasionally, as Dust stirred, he would see Horror peek over and add a few more things in: a touch of pepper, a bowl of chopped potatoes, some baby carrots. No matter what was added, Dust simply folded it into the evergrowing soup.
He couldn't help but picture simpler times. He remembered trying to do this when he was younger: one small hand stirring away while the other traced each line of an old cookbook he found. He'd make something warm for when his brother came in after playing in the snow. Then they would eat and talk about each other's day, and dream about what they'd do once they were on the surfa
Horror turned the stove off with a soft CLICK.
Dust looked over at Horror. It took him a moment, but he nodded. "Yeah."
Horror patted him on the back. "You did great."
Dust looked from Horror, to the now-finished stew, then back to Horror.
Dust smiled a little. "Thanks." He gestured vaguely. "For letting me help out."
" 'f course." Horror placed a few spices back into the cupboard next to them, but he gave Dust a smile. "I like havin' you around. Good company." He closed the cupboard, tilting his head. "Good at stirring too. You should join me in here more often.."
