wulfbruised:
❝ ALRIGHT , ALRIGHT – LISTEN. ❞ deep , baritone voice is followed by a sigh heaved out past parted lips as hands clad in oven-mitts move to grasp the handles of the large pot settled atop his stove. the quilted fabric looks almost out of character upon the lycan’s large , scarred hands – the faded pink decorated with old-fashioned flowers , like something straight out of a vintage magazine plucked from the 1950s – and with gio’s dark , messy locks pulled up into a haphazard bun atop his head , there’s no doubt that the hulking creature looks almost comical. it does little to quell his enthusiasm regardless as a wooden spoon is stuck into the bubbling , carb-heavy meal he had been tended to for the better part of an hour now. ❝ i’m no vegan , ❞ he begins again , nostrils flaring as he gives the pot another deep sniff. ❝ … but i did try a milk-free recipe. you’re lactose intolerant , right ? ❞
thick brows lift curiously as he glances over his shoulder at the younger lycan seated at the table. to say that gio wasn’t used to cooking for his younger peers would have been a lie – but the numerous years he had spent tending to his younger siblings in the bronx had been completed with far too many boxes of microwave mac-and-cheese & canned chilli than he’d like to admit ; he was nowhere near his mother’s caliber , able to roll out hand-made tortillas or meat so tender it all but fell off the bone – but the years had been kind enough to him that gio was able to pick a few meager skills here & there. wooden spoon is set aside before he removes the gaudy pink mitts covering his hand , tossing them aside onto the countertop. ❝ give it a few more minutes an’ it should be done. you wanna play some mario kart while it cooks ? ❞ the question is posed with a lazy grin as free hand moves to cover the pot with a steam-covered lid.
THEY FEEL STUPID DOING THIS. the most that they have used their laptop recently has been to pull up netflix when they were too lazy to venture out into the living room. keyboard clicks feel foreign to them as they type the admissions essay , knowing that their skills are rusty at best , latent for four years as they were. frustration is kept at bay only by the smell of slowly cooking food in the kitchen just a few feet away. numerous tabs open on their screen pushes them to the brink of anxiety , so they move their cursor to click out of a few. with an exhale , they feel some of the tension leave their shoulders. arms stretch above their head , elbows creaking and knuckles cracking before they fall limp into their lap again. as an afterthought , they sit up a bit straighter , a weak attempt in fixing terrible posture that only makes them seem shorter than they already were.
an exasperated sigh is exhaled , head turning towards the lycan that’s kind enough to do this. something swells in their chest , a sense of being important enough to someone that he catches on to minute details such as lactose intolerance. silently , they nod , ink black hair falling into their eyes. with one hand , they mark down a much needed haircult into their to do list. there might have been a similar scene years ago in the apartment kaz grew up in , with their siblings messing around in the kitchen while they did homework , but it’s been long enough that it’s barely fragments of memories to them , lost in the comfort of the promise of a home cooked meal. eyes follow what look to be practiced movements to them , mouth slightly parted in awe as he moves about the kitchen.
another nod at the next question , and kaz stands too hastily from their chair , shutting the laptop. “ i call yoshi ! ” they shout over their shoulder as they rush towards the living room , all but climbing over the back of the couch to take a seat. hands grab for the remote and controllers , flipping the television to the right channel and pulling up the load screen for the game. “ get ready to get your ass kicked. ”
